


The Peace of House Kryze: Civil War

by pretchatta



Series: The Peace of House Kryze [1]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Betrayal, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Cave-In, Caves, Draboon, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Injury, Injury Recovery, Kissing, Mandalorian Civil War (Star Wars), Mandalorian Culture (Star Wars), Mandalorian History (Star Wars), Mando'a Language (Star Wars), Mild Hurt/Comfort, On the Run, Planet Mandalore (Star Wars), Pre-Star Wars: The Phantom Menace, Protection, Rescue, Sharing a Bed, Trapped, Venom-mites, no beta we die like our dreams of a canon obitine kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:54:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27775699
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretchatta/pseuds/pretchatta
Summary: The Mandalore system is dangerously close to collapse. Stirrings of unrest ripple through the general population while the New Mandalorian government tries desperately to stabilise. Those who oppose their mandate of peace would rather push their world over the brink and into destruction than submit to the new ways. Following a plea for help, the Jedi Council have dispatched two members of their order to protect Mandalore's last hope of survival: Duchess Satine of House Kryze.Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan will spend a year protecting Satine from insurgents, bounty hunters and worse, while a civil war ravages her home in her absence. At the end of it all, Satine and Obi-Wan will have a choice to make.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Satine Kryze
Series: The Peace of House Kryze [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2031922
Comments: 27
Kudos: 82





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is fully compliant with The Clone Wars TV show, but I can’t promise it matches up with any other EU content like books/comics/etc. Any similarities are either pure chance or lifted from the wiki.
> 
> I don't have an update schedule but each chapter does exist in draft form. Please note the rating; there will be explicit sexual content in chapters 6 and 8.

The palace in Keldabe truly was a sight to behold. A tower of glass and _beskar_ steel, its soaring turrets and arched windows impressed a sense of both fierce strength and elegant finesse. It was a tribute to a thousand of years of Mandalorian victories across the galaxy, a reminder of who their people truly were. Some complained that the structure was a waste of their most precious resource, an insult to their warriors; in more recent times, others appreciated the use of the metal for beauty and not for yet more death.

But Satine of House Kryze, Duchess of Mandalore, Champion of Peace, was not admiring architecture today. Barely six months into her rule, there was much for her to do if she was to prevent her world from falling apart and taking her people down with it.

Standing in her throne room, she fixed the assembled members of her new government with a cool gaze. Her Ruling Council stared back at her, heads high, while the various ministers and representatives behind them shuffled their feet and couldn't quite meet her eyes. 

"Why was I not informed of this challenge sooner?" Her commanding tone echoed around the room, reaching the heights of the arched ceilings and heard as easily by the guards flanking the doors as by the politicians standing in front of her.

"The Ruling Council did not want to worry you, your highness," her Prime Minister replied politely, but his calm voice sounded flat with none of the resonance of her own words. He was a slight man, with pale hair and skin as was common among natives to the system, but the steel in his eyes and the strength of his posture hinted at the true reason Satine had backed him for election.

"Prime Minister, I am not a child," she snapped, narrowing her eyes at him. "I need to know what is happening if I am to effectively combat it." Yes, she was young, certainly much younger than her father had intended her to be when she took his place, but neither had he intended to die. Yet he had, and she was Duchess, and somehow her government needed to see that she was capable of carrying this burden.

He looked aghast. "My lady, surely you aren't suggesting agreeing to the duel?"

"Of course not!" she retorted. "I am under no misapprehension about Te Vizsla's skills as a warrior, and I would not stand a chance against him in single combat. No doubt this is the reason for his actions; we all know his thoughts on my suitability as Mandalore's leader. But something must be done nonetheless, and you leave me little time to think what."

"The Council have already decided a course of action, your highness," he said smoothly, his face giving nothing away. "Subject to your approval, of course."

Satine swallowed a grimace. Apparently her government still needed convincing that she was worthy of being part of their meetings. "Very well. What have you come up with?"

"We feel it would be in Mandalore's best interests if you were to leave the capital, for your own safety." He kept his face an impassive mask, but his eyes watched for her reaction carefully. "We can arrange for suitable protection to accompany you, meanwhile we will do everything we can to resolve the conflict with House Vizsla. Once they have been dealt with, we will send for your return." 

"You want me to run and hide?" she spluttered. "My father would never have agreed to this!"

"The Duke was a great warrior before his untimely illness, and would have been evenly matched against Vizsla - had the challenge been sought during his rule," he supplied, not missing a beat. Satine had her own suspicions about Vizsla's timing, but now was not the time. "You, however, are at great risk; I am sure he would have placed your safety above any notions of pride."

She sniffed. "And this 'protection force' - I assume you mean my personal guard? If they can protect me outside the capital then I don't see why they can't do so here."

"Given this new development, the capital is exactly where Vizsla's people will look for you, and they are surely planning already how to combat your guards. We felt it necessary to arrange for a more… _elite_ security force."

An elite force? There was only one place a person would look for such a thing, and Satine would have no part in it.

"Bounty hunters?" she exclaimed incredulously. "I thought you all shared my feelings on them. They go against every ideal we New Mandalorians strive to uphold! I will not condone hiring them, not even for this."

He raised his hands in a placating manner. "Not bounty hunters, my lady. We have reached out to an organisation that shares our values of peace, but who can match Mandalorian warriors strength for strength, as they have done so many times throughout history." Her curiosity was piqued, but he seemed to steel himself before continuing. "The Jedi Council has responded to our request for assistance, and they are sending one of their best Masters to come to your aid."

The room fell still at his words, silent and uneasy.

"A _jetti,_ " she breathed.

Her father had told her stories of the ancient enemy of Mandalore. A thousand years of conflict, of war. Even at the end, when he had proclaimed himself a pacifist, it had been one of the few cases where he still supported aggression. The very man who had founded the New Mandalorians would have gladly taken up arms to fight _jetti_.

She suddenly noticed everyone in the room was watching her closely, with varying levels of apprehension on their faces. _This is a test_ , she realised; _they want to see if I truly am committed to peace, willing to let go of the past and to trust them. Well, I am not my father. I certainly shall not continue to hold on to some ancient grudge_.

"Yes, I suppose that would be the best choice," she said finally. "But I will not be gone for long; our people need strong leadership if they are to survive this." A quiet beeping noise indicated that one of the aides was receiving a message, but Satine did not allow it to interrupt her. "We will also need to establish a plan for the continuing rule of Mandalore in my absence."

The aide was speaking into the Prime Ministers ear, who nodded and waved her away. "I’m afraid there is no time," he said to Satine. "The Council was unanimous in its decision that you leave immediately, and we’ve just received word that the Jedi has arrived at the port."

She suppressed a sigh. "I would have _appreciated_ a little more forewarning on this, Prime Minister." She allowed some of her displeasure to seep into her voice; not too much though, lest they think her a petulant child. 

"I understand, but once we had reached a decision we thought it best to act quickly. Arrangements have been made for you to stay with Clan Eldar - they have a residence in Ronion, so you won't be far, but no-one would expect you to be there, which makes it perfect as far as your safety is concerned."

"Very well. And what of the preparations for my departure here?"

"Your handmaidens are packing your belongings as we speak, and the Captain of your personal guard was briefed shortly before this meeting. He will meet you at your shuttle, with his selection of who will be accompanying you."

"If it weren't for the fact that I'm apparently the last to be informed of all this, I'd be impressed, Prime Minister." She arched an eyebrow at him, but to his credit, his face remained impassive. "Send for the _jetti;_ I see no reason in delaying the inevitable." At her command, the aide ducked away to relay the message, and the assembled politicians broke into a low buzz of conversation. The atmosphere in the room was now relaxed, the politics having been completed.

The Prime Minister stepped towards her, holding something in his hands. "We've established a secure communications network so that we can remain in contact," he was saying, passing the small device to her.

"Good to know I'm still allowed to rule," she muttered under her breath, but apparently not quietly enough.

"It is imperative that you maintain your current position, Duchess," he murmured softly. "The stability of Mandalore is everyone's top priority, and no-one is in any doubt that you are the one holding onto it."

She smiled gratefully at him. It felt good to hear someone finally say it. "Thank you, Prime Minister."

"Duchess Satine?" a voice called from behind him. "if you have a moment, perhaps now would be a good time to discuss the Concordia Rehabitation Plan?" Her environment minister had pushed his way to the front and was trying to make eye contact. "The survey you ordered last month on the environmental impact of the increase in _beskar_ mining on our moon has been completed, and I have the results and recommended next steps with me here."

"Of course, minister, please share the findings with us." She gestured for him to step forward as the Prime Minister returned to his original position.

The environment minister wasted no time in beginning his report, barely looking at the datapad he held. "The destruction has unfortunately gone deeper than we had previously suspected; there are really only two options for continuing to support communities living on Concordia. One is to try to rehabilitate the forests."

"Isn't that what we originally wanted to do?" she asked.

"Yes, but given the extent of the damage to the ecosystem, it would be very labour-intensive and likely take many years - perhaps a decade - before we see any results."

His words caused a worried frown to form on her forehead.

"And the alternative?" she pressed.

"A new technology from one of the desert planets in the Mid Rim," he replied, tapping on the datapad to bring up the relevant file. "Bio-domes, they're called; they are constructed around a city and shield it from hostile environments, providing a clean atmosphere and temperature regulation suitable for habitation. If the forests of Concordia aren't replenished, the oxygen levels will drop, and the pollutants already in the atmosphere from the mines will start warming the moon."

Before she could respond, the Prime Minister's comlink started beeping. "Duchess?" he cut in. "They're here."

She acknowledged his words with a nod, but did not turn from addressing the environment minister. "Carry out some more research on these bio-domes, and on the nature of the work we would need to undertake to reforest the moon," she ordered. "We need all the information we can get before we make a decision on this." She let her tone dismiss him then; he bowed before backing away, returning to the throng of ministers and advisors. She took a breath and straightened her posture, setting her shoulders - it wasn't a big movement, holding herself like a leader came naturally to her these days - and gestured to the guards at the door.

They responded to her immediately, stepping to either side and sweeping the double doors open to reveal two cloaked figures. This surprised Satine; only one Jedi had been mentioned, and they didn't take servants. The pair approached slowly, seeming to almost glide across the throne room floor, their calm faces giving away nothing of their reaction to the thirty-odd people in the room who turned to watch them enter. The crowd parted as they grew near, allowing the Jedi to reach Satine.

"Duchess Satine, may I present Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn," the Prime Minister intoned. "He will be overseeing your personal security until the current threat has passed."

The taller of the two, whose long, dark hair was tied behind his head, gave a small bow. Above a short beard, his dark eyes held a gentle intensity, but there was wisdom there too. "It is an honour to serve you, my lady. This is my apprentice, Obi-Wan Kenobi, who will also be joining us." He gestured an arm towards the other man, whose face was smooth and young, and his auburn hair short save for a thin braid over his right shoulder. The apprentice, who couldn't have been much older than Satine herself, imitated his master's bow.

"Mandalore is grateful for your service, Master Jedi." She inclined her head, acknowledging their gestures of respect. 

"We are always willing to protect those who seek peace, no matter where they are from or what past we may share."

"Perhaps when this is over we can celebrate our coming together; it is quite the historic moment," she offered sincerely. "For now, we must turn our minds to the more pressing matter at hand."

The Prime Minister moved to stand beside Master Jinn, addressing him now more than Satine. "You will be working with the captain of the Duchess' personal guard, primarily in the role of an advisor. A shuttle is being prepared as we speak to carry you to Ronion, where you will stay with a clan loyal to the Duchess and the New Mandalorian government. Your duty is to protect the Duchess; we will deal with Vizsla and his insurgents."

"Then we should get moving; I sense much danger in the capital," he responded, before glancing up at Satine. "If your highness has no objections?" There was something in the way he spoke, or perhaps it was his posture, that suggested his question was purely for show; he would have no problems with ordering the ruler of one of the most powerful systems in the Outer Rim about, nor with ignoring courtly etiquette.

For some reason, it didn't irk Satine in the slightest. "By all means, lead on. My captain and handmaidens will meet us at the landing platform with my bags."

The two Jedi turned at once to sweep out of the throne room, their robes billowing gently behind them. The Prime Minister hastily followed, moving to Qui-Gon's side and trying to appear as though he were the one leading the procession, though the pair gave no indication they had noticed him. Satine followed, adopting her usual serene glide, flanked by her guards and trailed by the rest of the politicians who would see her off.

The shuttle that waited for them at the landing platform was plain and nondescript. A simple transport that would blend in with the other traffic leaving the city. She could make out two droids in the cockpit, a pilot and an astromech, but her attention was drawn to the retinue that waited for her by the doors. She took strength from the sight of their familiar faces; six women clad head-to-toe in ombre silk robes, the colour fading smoothly from the bright green hoods down to the dark navy hems at their feet, and the eight guards standing to attention in full uniform behind their captain. It wasn't just from the knowledge that her luggage would already be safely stowed on board; she was leaving home and heading into the unknown, with no idea of when she might return, but at least she wouldn't be alone. 

The goodbyes were brief and formal, and it wasn't long before the pilot droid was steering the shuttle off the platform and into the throng of traffic that threaded its way through Keldabe. She sat in silence, surrounded by her guards and handmaidens, watching her home vanish behind her and then content to take her last look at the city. Neither of the Jedi spoke, but it wasn't awkward; they each radiated a calm serenity that, combined with their purposeful movements, made her at once feel at ease in their presence.

Whatever the future held, she knew she had the strength to face it.


	2. Chapter 2

Satine adapted quickly to her new life. There were just enough similarities to what she was used to; the location may have been different, but her routine was the same.

Her handmaidens would wake her every morning with the day's headlines from Mandalore and the wider galaxy, and take her through her schedule and reminders while they helped her dress. Her work was done over holo calls, but she felt they were still as effective as in-person meetings, not to mention the bonus of being able to switch off her ministers' droning if they went on too long. Her evenings didn't give her as much personal time as she would have liked, nevertheless Clan Eldar were excellent hosts and provided everything she needed to feel at home.

The only addition that required adjustment was the presence of the Jedi. They were nothing like what she had expected. Qui-Gon seemed to disregard any claim to nobility, treating Satine and the Clan elders in the same way as the guards and servants. Obi-Wan was a little more respectful and reserved; when he said 'your highness' and 'my lady' it sounded sincere (unlike his master), but when they weren’t in company he spoke to her as an equal. She was unaccustomed to it, but she found it a refreshing change, and soon developed a growing respect for the pair of them.

She didn't fully appreciate the extent of their abilities as protectors, however, until the second week of their stay.

Satine was taking tea with their hosts, making conversation about current events as was polite, when Qui-Gon had burst into the room.

"Your location is compromised. We’re leaving." His voice was soft and even, as it always was, but there was a new intensity in his eyes that she hadn't seen before.

She managed to refrain from an un-Duchess-like noise of surprise, instead keeping her voice calm. "How do you know?"

"I sense danger is approaching; you must trust my instincts."

She nodded. "I will instruct my handmaidens to pack my belongings."

"There's no time, my lady," he said firmly. "We must leave now if we are to ensure your safety."

"I assume you have at least informed my captain?"

"Obi-Wan is gathering your guards. He and they will join us on our transport. Anyone not ready to leave will be contacted with instructions to join us later." 

"And where exactly are we going?" she asked.

"Somewhere that is only safe if we leave before someone arrives to track us," he replied pointedly.

"Very well, Master Jinn," she sighed. "Lead on."

The transport was another ordinary-looking shuttle, and even at a hurried pace they weren't the first to get there. Obi-Wan was waiting, along with a handful of guards and two of Satine's handmaidens. They boarded, and Qui-Gon gave the curt order to leave. As they accelerated away, Satine noticed someone missing.

"Where is your captain?" she asked the nearest guard.

"He stayed behind, your highness. It was... the Jedi's idea," he responded gruffly, glancing at Obi-Wan. "One of your handmaidens is acting as a decoy. It's more believable with him accompanying her; the insurgents will follow them while we get you to safety."

It was indeed a good plan, though she wished it didn't need to be so. She knew all too well what the stakes were. The only thing protecting innocent bystanders from the Mandalorian warriors' ruthlessness was their need of the people's support if they were to ever gain power. Unfortunately, that same protection would not extend to her own staff.

"They'll be all right," Qui-Gon cut into her train of thought, almost as though he'd heard it. "Once they've lost their pursuers, they'll get in contact and join us. You should only be apart for a few days."

"A few days?" she exclaimed. "And what am I supposed to wear in the meantime?"

"It's all right, my lady," one of the handmaidens said, coming to her side. "We were able to pack you an overnight bag before we left."

Qui-Gon snapped his mouth shut from whatever witty comment he'd surely been about to make on pampered nobles learning to live without, and shot Obi-Wan a frown.

The younger man shrugged. "We may be Jedi, master, but there's no reason to force the Duchess to live like one too. I told them to gather enough of the Duchess' belongings to last until the others reach us."

"Thank you, Obi-Wan," she smiled as she sent a glare at Qui-Gon. "It's good to know one of you cares about my comfort as well as my physical safety." Perhaps the stories about Jedi being utterly unfeeling were exaggerations, though she decided not to say that out loud. There would be a more diplomatic way of finding out how much of her knowledge of the Jedi was based in truth; it would be worth having a conversation with one of them about it at some point.

***

Sitting in the peaceful inner courtyard, Obi-Wan reflected on how his latest mission was going. In the past five weeks they'd gone through as many safehouses, each the ancestral residence of one of the numerous Mandalorian clans who supported the powerful House Kryze. Their hosts jumped at the chance to accommodate the Duchess, and treated her retinue cordially - mainly because none of them knew the true identity of the Jedi. 

They'd kept one step ahead of the Duchess' pursuers, always sensing when it was time to move on and so far not needing to reveal themselves as Jedi. Despite several measures to tighten security around their exact location, however, it was taking less and less time for House Vizsla to find them. Most recently, Satine had been forced to surrender her commlink that allowed her to communicate with the rest of her government in case it was being tracked or intercepted somehow. She was most displeased, and whenever he'd seen her over the previous few days her face had been set in a scowl.

It wasn't the first time he and Qui-Gon had been assigned what many called 'body duty', but this particular assignment was like no other. For starters, the guards they were working with gave the distinct impression that they would rather work with anyone other than the Jedi. Obi-Wan wasn't sure if this was an improvement on the usual reactions of awe and eagerness from soldiers, who would either rely too heavily on the Jedi or make mistakes as they tried to impress them.

Still, they managed to stay professional, and combined with Qui-Gon's own knowledge of Mandalorian tactics (he'd done his research... on the transport from Coruscant to Mandalore) they'd managed to stay a step ahead of the Duchess' pursuers. It was Qui-Gon's idea to use evasive manoeuvres; he wanted to keep the fact that they were Jedi hidden for as long as possible, to give them the edge of their hunters underestimating them. 

The biggest difference to past missions was their charge herself: Satine. Unlike the other diplomats and politicians they had been assigned to protect, she took an active part in planning and strategising their next moves. For a pacifist, she knew a surprising amount about combat, which shouldn't have surprised him given her heritage. It wasn't immediately obvious from looking at her. She held herself with the regal authority common to figures of leadership, and wore no armour nor carried any weapons; the perfect figurehead for the New Mandalorian government.

That wasn't all there was to Satine, however.

He'd felt it the moment he'd entered the throne room with his master. An immediate connection, an echo of something in the Force, pulling him towards her. Qui-Gon had often spoken of the Force as something non-linear that existed outside of time itself, connecting _every_ living being, not just the ones that happened to exist right now. Force visions were like memories unconcerned with whether the events they recalled had actually occurred for the individual experiencing them. Similarly, once two people were connected through the Force, they were always connected, for all times.

He said it was how he'd known to choose Obi-Wan for his padawan. He'd felt their bond reverberating through the Force even though it hadn't been forged yet.

Obi-Wan theorised this pull towards Satine was similar. He hadn't told Qui-Gon about it, sensing somehow that this was something for him alone, but he had meditated on it. Each time he had reached through the Force towards the source of the feeling, all he had been able to find was an urge to be beside her, stronger the further he reached. He didn't know if it was a warning or a premonition of something to come, but he knew he had to be careful. The Jedi warned against attachments for a reason, and this was dangerously close.

His thoughts on Satine and the mission were interrupted by someone entering the courtyard. They moved too quietly to be heard over the burbling of the fountain, but Obi-Wan recognised the presence in the Force immediately. He opened his eyes as Satine herself approached.

"May I join you?" she asked, noticing him watching her.

"Of course." He gestured to the space beside him on the bench. 

"If you'd rather not be disturbed, there are other places I can go."

"Oh no, it's fine." Though she tried to hide it, he could tell she was grateful he hadn't chosen solitude. His mouth quirked into a small smile. "I understand there is little to do at present."

"Yes, I can only hope that my government is managing in my absence. Hopefully they won't adapt too well to working without me; I do intend to return and resume my usual duties." She sighed. "They barely had a chance to know to me before I had to leave."

"I'm sure they will be grateful for your safe return to ruling," he reassured her.

"Well, I'd rather not think about that which I can't do anything about. I was actually wondering..." She hesitated, seemingly deciding whether or not to continue. "Since we are going to be spending rather a lot of time together, perhaps you could tell me more about yourself? My father told me stories of the Jedi, but I'm aware that he might not have been the most... reliable source."

Obi-Wan could practically hear what Qui-Gon would have said had he been there. A chance to educate the ruler of the Mandalorians about the true nature of the Jedi? If he did well, he could be securing generations of peace between the two orders.

He kept his voice light as he replied. "What would you like to know?"

"Let's start with something simple; how did you become a Jedi?" she inquired. 

"I was three. The Council had become aware of my presence, and my Force-sensitivity, and they approached my birth parents to take me to the Temple for training."

Satine looked scandalised. "I honestly wasn't expecting _those_ stories to be true!"

He frowned. "Which stories?"

"The ones where Jedi steal children. They sense other Jedi before they are born, and use mind tricks to manipulate the parents into handing the child over. In the stories it happens before the child has even opened its eyes, but perhaps that part was an exaggeration."

He barked out a laugh before he could stop himself. "That's not quite how it happens - we're not nearly so organised as that. While it’s true that we can sometimes sense when a Force-sensitive child is born, it's usually through a call from the parents or pure luck that the Council finds out about them. And then we ask if they'd be willing to entrust the child to us; it's safer that Force-sensitive children receive training, for themselves and those around them, but we don't influence their decision. They can - and do - say no."

"So you don’t take babies?" Her tone was doubtful.

He pulled a face, trying to find a way to answer diplomatically. "Most children are brought to the order between the ages of six and twelve months - though it's not unheard of for an older child to be accepted. I myself was unusual, and I was almost considered to be too old."

An expression of shock crossed her face. "Why do they want you so young?"

"It helps the training. Children form very strong attachments to their parents; the sooner they are brought to the Temple, the easier the transition is," he explained. "Few Jedi even know the identity of their birth parents."

She looked thoughtful for a moment. "I can't imagine not knowing my family," she said softly.

"If I concentrate, I can recall a few hazy memories. But I don't tend to; the Jedi are the only family I've truly known, and the only one I need," he said honestly. "They raised me, they taught me everything I know, and it's all I want to be."

"I see. So you've been a - padawan? - since you were three?" She said the unfamiliar word carefully, uncertain of its use. Qui-Gon had only used it once or twice in front of the Mandalorians, usually to warn his apprentice from saying the wrong thing. Obi-Wan hated it, which was why it worked.

"No, the younglings don't become padawans until they're chosen for training by a master, which usually isn't before the age of around ten. There are several tests to overcome as well - nothing they aren't prepared for," he added hastily at the look on her face.

She regarded him with suspicion for a moment, before letting it go in favour of her next question. "When did Qui-Gon choose you?"

"I was thirteen," he replied. "I passed the Initiate Trials and spent what felt like an age waiting to be selected by someone, but I believe it was only three days."

She chuckled with him. "I have to say, I know the feeling - waiting to be announced as my father's successor felt like it took ten times as long as it did."

"At least your journey is now over. I still have one more trial before I can become a knight." He noticed Satine's gaze had drifted from his face, and realised he'd unconsciously started fingering his braid. Her eyes travelled over the long twist of hair, clearly curious.

"The braid is a mark of my padawan status. It represents the milestones I have reached in my training," he explained softly. "To be apprenticed to a Jedi Master is a great honour, and I am proud to wear it." He hoped he sounded convincing; the words were true, even if he did wish his master could see that he was already ready for his Trials.

"What happens to those who aren't chosen? Or fail the tests?"

"They simply find their true purpose elsewhere, such as the Jedi Service Corps."

"And they are happy with that." It wasn't exactly a question, but she was clearly dubious about it.

He simply spread his hands. "I assume so." He hadn't had much contact with such individuals, but it was the Jedi way to accept events as they happened as the will of the Force.

He said as much, and she lapsed into silence for a moment, deep in thought.

"Does anyone ever leave voluntarily?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "It's a rare occurrence, but it happens." 

She gave him another look; her piercing gaze seemed to latch onto his reluctance and demand he overcome it. For a brief moment he was reminded of Qui-Gon.

"It's not something the masters talk about, but I think it depends on the Jedi," he relented. "Sometimes they disagree with the Council or the Republic too much to continue serving them; sometimes they find the restrictions of the Code too much to bear. Several in history have been known to leave and start families."

"What’s stopping any Jedi from simply leaving once they’ve reached the rank of Knight, or Master? You’d have all that power, and could just leave the restrictions and duties behind."

 _It's not the Jedi way_. But she wouldn't understand that answer - that was why she'd asked it.

He smiled. "Duchess, what is stopping you from leaving your post as ruler? You have all this knowledge of political secrets and strategies, contacts and relationships; you could just leave the duties and responsibilities behind."

She took a breath to snap out a response but froze, the words on the tip of her tongue. _I have a responsibility to protect my people, to do for them what others cannot_ , he could imagine her saying.

"Oh," she deflated. "You make a good point." She frowned. "But I _would_ step aside in the right situation. If someone were to come along who I believed would be a better ruler for my people, I would gladly concede to them. I suppose the same doesn't really apply to the Jedi, though."

He paused, thinking. "I can't say I've ever thought of why I might leave. The only reason I can think of is for another."

"Yes?"

"If there were someone I truly, deeply loved, who I knew I could have a happy future with, to whom I felt such a strong connection that it outweighed everything the Jedi have ever done for me... perhaps I would give it up for them. But Jedi are forbidden from allowing such relationships in the first place, so I can't see it ever happening."

She was silent for a moment. "It's strange," she said finally, "that's one thing that I feel would make my rule stronger. If I had a consort from one of the powerful clans that support my rule, someone who I could rely on, my people would look upon me more highly. I would probably be a better ruler."

"You're doing an admirable job of ruling as you are," he encouraged her.

She waved his comment away. "I thank you for the flattery, but it's really not necessary."

"Perhaps I was merely complimenting myself," he joked, eyes twinkling with humour. "After all, were I not doing such an admirable job, you wouldn't even be able to rule in the first place."

"Now you're just asking to be dismissed," she said, rolling her eyes, but there was no heat to her words.

"And who would save you from your insurgents if you got rid of me?"

"Qui-Gon, of course. Of the two of you, he is the master, after all."

He wagged a finger at her. "I'll have you know I devised four of our six escape plans enacted so far, Duchess. You'd be too slow without me."

"So Master Jinn is getting too old to perform his duties, is that what you're saying?"

"I'm merely pointing out where my talents lie."

She laughed, a beautiful sound that echoed around the sunlight courtyard and melded with the gurgling of the fountain. He wouldn't be disappointed if this mission turned out to be a long one, and it wasn't for the future of Mandalore and the Jedi.


	3. Chapter 3

The machine hissed and whirred as it spat out a stream of caf into Satine's mug. Her second of the day; she wondered idly if it would be her last cup on the run. After three months, this incident was sure to end soon, one way or the other.

She was currently staying at her final place of sanctuary on Mandalore. It hadn't been the last when they'd arrived yesterday, but news had reached them earlier that morning of the destruction of the only other safehouse they thought House Vizsla didn't know about. She'd felt a pang of sadness for the innocent lives lost, but it was swiftly followed by anger, an all too common emotion for her at the moment. They were proving the very reason she stood for peace in the first place, and they still had the audacity to say she was wrong.

The only good news from that report was that her military advisors estimated that to be the last of House Vizsla's forces. Thanks to the Jedi's preternatural foresight, her own forces had arrived in time to neutralise or arrest the insurgents before they could get away. Te Vizsla himself was still eluding capture, managing to escape each time he was seen, but with this latest blow it was only inevitable that they would catch up to him soon. His only other option was surrender, but no-one believed he would do that. 

Satine took her caf through to the family room, where Obi-Wan was performing his morning exercises under Qui-Gon's watchful eye. Their hosts were nowhere to be seen; although Qui-Gon did not object to having observers during training sessions, Satine had felt their discomfort about watching, as she had for many of their previous hosts. The Jedi were so mysterious in their ways, it almost felt like prying to watch their inner workings like this. But spending four months with them had made her accustomed to them, their routine now familiar to her. She was even beginning to suspect that Qui-Gon liked having someone in the room; the point seemed to be for Obi-Wan to focus, and so the more distractions there were, the harder he had to work.

The padawan in question was currently stripped to the waist and upside-down, holding himself up by only a single arm, his legs stretched towards the ceiling. His master sat cross-legged in front of him, fully dressed in his usual robes, and they both had their eyes closed and a look of concentration on their faces.

Satine quietly sat down, not wanting to disturb them until she figured out which part of the routine they were up to, but Qui-Gon opened one eye to look at her. She said nothing, keeping her face blank as she sipped her caf, and he closed it again. 

Unobserved, she allowed her eyes to wander over to Obi-Wan. He was maintaining his position, but she could tell it took effort. His muscles were well-defined in their tension, and his skin was starting to develop a sheen of sweat. As her eyes travelled over his body, taking in the sight of his lean form, she noticed a small number of pale scars criss-crossing his arms. There were more on his chest, but fewer, though they were slightly easier to see against the way his skin there was flushed from exertion. A light dusting of hair coated his chest, a similar colour to that on his head, though it darkened around his navel, forming a slightly thicker line that travelled over the firm definition of his abs and disappeared under his waistband. On either side, the smooth skin that stretched over his hips was unmarked, only accentuating their curved lines. It was almost like an invitation, pointing down to-

Suddenly aware of where she was staring, she snapped her eyes away, feeling a blush rise to her cheeks. Though she would admit he was an objectively attractive man, she couldn't allow herself to think such thoughts about someone who was assigned as her protector - and certainly not a Jedi. Never mind the fact that if she were to ever choose a partner for herself, it would need to be another Mandalorian, and someone from a powerful clan sworn to House Kryze. Imagine the scandal if she announced to her court that she was taking a Jedi consort...

She gave her head a little shake. Ridiculous fantasies. She didn't even _like_ Obi-Wan in that way, and she was a long way off thinking about _marriage_.

Still, where was the harm in innocently observing their training sessions? It would be... instructional. She let her gaze drift back to him, but kept her eyes firmly above - or rather, below - his shoulders. Despite being upside-down, his face wasn't turning the shade of purple she would expect from another human in the same position. Perhaps that was part of whatever Force focusing he might be doing.

His eyes were closed, but his brows were knitted in a small frown of concentration. She was a little surprised by the desire that arose in her to reach out and smooth the creases from his forehead. Tamping it down, she noticed that his braid was dangling down towards the floor, hanging low enough to just line up with his elbow. From here, she was close enough to see the beads strung into it, and the way the weave of the hair changed pattern a few times. The beads were a variety of materials, glass and wood and even a metallic-looking one. Before she could ponder their meaning, Qui-Gon spoke.

"Did you hear the news this morning?"

"About Clan Rau? Yes, I did. Words cannot describe the foulness of the atrocities these people are committing, all in the name of opposing me..." There had been no survivors. If Fenn hadn't joined the Protectors last year, she thought to herself, Clan Rau would now be wiped out.

"I'm sorry for your loss, your highness." For once, the title sounded sincere.

She nodded, not able to answer. She had lost a lot recently.

"At some point we will need to discuss what we will do when our position here is inevitably compromised."

"There's nowhere left to run, Master Jinn," she said, resigned. "We would have to return to the capital."

"On the contrary, we have the whole galaxy available to us."

She sent him a sharp glare, which he ignored. "I will _not_ leave Mandalore!"

"You may not have a choice."

She was interrupted from arguing further by the beeping of her commlink.

It had been reluctantly returned to her by Qui-Gon after she'd pointed out their pursuers clearly didn't need to use it to track her. After a month of not being in touch with her government, they didn't arrange quite so many meetings as before, and the times anyone did call her were usually for urgent matters. 

She answered immediately, and the blue holographic face of her Prime Minister appeared before her.

"Your highness," he began in an excited voice, "I have excellent news!"

"Yes, Prime Minster?"

"We have captured Te Vizsla! The security squad who have him in custody are bringing him to Keldabe as we speak, and with the arrests we made yesterday at the Rau residence, we are confident that this insurgency by House Vizsla is over. Now that it is safe once again, we have sent a contingent of guards to your position to bring you back to the capital."

She couldn't stop the grin from breaking out on her face as relief washed through her. "That's fantastic! It's so good to hear that this whole ordeal is finally over."

"I'm afraid I must go and make the necessary preparations for your arrival, my lady, but everyone in the palace eagerly awaits your return home."

"Thank you for informing me, I look forward to finally being back."

She ended the call, and turned to the Jedi.

"So it seems I shan't be leaving Mandalore after all." She did try to keep the note of triumph out of her voice, but may not have been entirely successful. "Furthermore, I am no longer in need of your services."

There was a muffled cry of surprise, and Obi-Wan collapsed in a heap. Qui-Gon gave no indication he noticed, and fixed Satine with a cool stare.

"Excuse me?"

"There is nothing left to protect me from, Master Jedi. I am returning to Keldabe; you heard the Prime Minister say he is sending my escort. The guards I have here will suffice until they arrive, so you are both free to return to Coruscant."

"I disagree with your assessment, my lady." Obi-Wan, now the right way up and looking more flushed than he had done standing on one hand, was indignant.

She didn't allow him to elaborate. "Well, I am dismissing you both, effective immediately. I know how valuable the Jedi are to the galaxy and there's no point in you staying here any longer than you need to be when there's no doubt someone else you could be doing more good."

Obi-Wan started to protest again, but his master cut him off. "Very well, Duchess. We will leave at once."

"Excellent. I will inform our hosts that their duties will soon be over."

She rose from her seat and swept out of the room, feeling lighter than she had in months. She was finally going home! A small part of her was sad that she was having to bid goodbye to the Jedi, but she pushed it down; wanting to keep them around was utter nonsense for so many reasons.

They departed quickly and without ceremony, apparently having no belongings to gather, and leaving with only a few words and a small bow. Somehow, even though only two people had left, the manor house felt so much emptier without them.

Satine declined the company of her hosts, wanting to be alone with her thoughts, and retreated to her rooms. They bore little indication of her presence here; like the Jedi, she now carried few possessions. As her eyes wandered over what she did have - a frayed gown, dusty boots, a small bag - her mind replayed her most recent loss.

The betrayal of Ursa Wren, her childhood friend, was still a raw wound in her heart. She should have been there now; it was only yesterday that she had been looking forward to catching up with Ursa again, so sure of Clan Wren's loyalty.

She had scoffed when Qui-Gon had stiffened the instant they had crossed the threshold and turned to her to whisper _"this is a trap"_.

Then Ursa had appeared at the top of the stairs in full _beskar'gam_ , and others in the grey-and-yellow armour of Clan Wren had appeared all around them, wielding blaster, cutting the newcomers off from all possible means of escape.

"You swore allegiance to Clan Kryze!" Satine had cried angrily.

"I still stand with Clan Kryze, but you are no longer considered a member of it!" came the biting reply.

The implication of her words had stabbed through Satine's heart like knives of ice. She didn't need reminding of who was at Vizsla's right hand. Fortunately, her Jedi sentinels were not so easily distracted by the words of her childhood friend. The warriors were knocked backwards, as though by some invisible hand, and then Qui-Gon was ushering them back the way they had come, running to the street as blaster fire scorched the ground behind them. They had hidden in an alley, using a busy market as cover, and their pursuers hadn't managed to find them before the City Watch had showed up. Though she was relieved that there was no fighting in the streets, she knew the Watch would not have been able to catch the rogues, and she had no doubt Ursa would try again.

The Wrens weren't the only loss that day. Two of her handmaidens were caught in the crossfire of their arrival, bringing the total of non-combatant deaths in her party to five. She'd lost a guard too, but at least they'd signed up for fighting; her ladies were civilians, and she was failing in her duty to protect them. The one that remained with her was resolute to stand with her Duchess, and Satine appreciated her loyalty and dedication, but her heart ached for yet another person who was willing to put their life at risk for her. All she wanted was to return home, to peace and to rebuilding the fragile state of her world.

The other loss was her luggage; Qui-Gon's warnings of her many bags being left behind in the event of a hasty departure finally came true, for he refused to go back for them, and even Obi-Wan admitted that their transport had probably been destroyed to prevent their escape anyway. Fortunately she had followed his advice and packed her most important items into an easily-carried shoulder bag which she had been holding when they entered the Wren mansion (well, Obi-Wan had offered to take it for her, and it was unbecoming for a Duchess to cart around her possessions like that) so her losses hadn't been too great, but she didn’t like Qui-Gon's air of triumph at her diminished belongings.

It didn't matter now, though. She'd be back in Keldabe soon, surrounded once again with her home comforts. She'd see to it that her remaining handmaiden received a generous early retirement, and the palace would help the families of all those they had lost. There were some things she couldn't fix, but she could at least move forward.

In the still and silent house, she felt rather than heard the door being kicked in. The crash of the impact sent a rumble through the whole house, making her jump.

"Oh, Duchess!" a deep voice trilled mockingly. The rough, unfamiliar voice created an image in her head of a man like many of the unsavoury types she had seen imprisoned for theft or public brawling. "We're here to take you to Vizsla!"

Panic rose within her; Vizsla was in prison, he'd been dealt with! No-one loyal to him was left on Mandalore. Yet here they were. She briefly considered running, but quickly dismissed the idea; without Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan she'd never get far.

She straightened and prepared to meet her fate. Walking proudly to the hallway, she faced her adversary, preparing to give him her coldest look.

The sight of the figures in the entryway wiped all preparations from her head. They weren't Mandalorian.

"But - you're _bounty hunters_?" she spat incredulously, venom lacing the last two words, disgusted with the depths Vizsla would sink to.

"That’s right, sweetheart, and you've got a pretty price on your head, so if you don’t mind..." He raised his weapon, pointing it directly at her head. Her heartbeat raced; this was not the end she had been expecting. She would have accepted being captured by Vizsla, that was part of their back-up plan, but this was stooping low for a Mandalorian.

Still, she saw no way out of this yet; she raised her hands where they could see them, and started slowly walking down the stairs. Her mind raced with ideas of what she should do, how she could get out, but each time came up blank. There were too many of them, and she didn't have the skill or the speed. Maybe an opportunity would present itself when they got outside. Or maybe she'd get shot.

She continued downwards, focusing on holding her hands steady. No matter how tumultuous her inner emotions were, she would not give them the pleasure of seeing it. 

From outside the doorway, beyond where the three figures were, came a pair of _swoosh_ ing noises, but that was the only warning the occupants of the house got before all hell broke loose. In a blur of pale robes and blue and green light, a whirlwind of destruction burst through the open doorway. Satine dived to the side, vaulting over the grand banister rail to drop the few feet that remained of the descent in order to take cover behind the stairs. Blaster shots struck the walls and ceiling of the entryway, but after only a few moments all was still. She dared a glance back to the door; all three bounty hunters were down, lying at the feet of two Jedi. 

Her Jedi.

Emotion welled inside of her at the sight of them.

Shouts and more blaster fire sounded from just outside.

"Obi-Wan, get the Duchess to safety. I’ll hold them off."

Qui-Gon turned his back on them as he adopted a defensive stance, his lightsaber flying into his hand and igniting. The glow of the green blade cast shadows over his face.

Obi-Wan’s expression was calm and his blue eyes twinkled as he held out a hand towards Satine, palm up, expectant. "Your highness?"

Her heart soared at the sight of him.

"You came back," she breathed.

Relief and amazement at their heroic return filled her, but underneath it there was another feeling mixed in as well, one that was tied to the sight of Obi-Wan, that only intensified as she met his eyes. For once, she felt completely sure of her actions as she took his offered hand.

She placed her life in his hand, and they ran.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this far! If you have any feedback, I'd love to hear it. 
> 
> I'm also on tumblr -> [pretchatta](https://pretchatta.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter wasn't in my original draft, but I felt it was necessary after I finished the previous one - that's why the chapter count has increased. It's also quite short, so I'm posting the next chapter with this one too!

The rain dripped from the mouth of the cave, and a sodden Satine shivered from the cold. The chill, damp interior was dimly lit by the weak flickering of their fire, casting deep shadows over the uneven walls. Sitting on the slick, lichen-covered stone floor, she ran her hands anxiously through the head of hair in her lap.

Obi-Wan stirred feebly where he lay, but she didn’t let him roll away. She found the wound on his head, and relief flooded through her as she saw it was just a small cut. Blood covered one side of his face, sticky from where it wasn’t quite able to dry. From the quantity, she’d thought his injury far worse, but she could patch this with the medkit Qui-Gon had thrust at her before he’d gone back to the ship for more of their supplies.

They’d made it off Mandalore with nothing more than stitches and bruises, the Jedi having already acquired a transport for them, and quickly made the jump to hyperspace. It had been in the blue whorls of jump space that she’d realised the new plan was to leave the Mandalore system completely; she hadn’t even thought to take one last look at home before she left. There had been no way to bring anyone else with them, even if there had been time, so she was left to come to terms with her new situation on her own.

Alone with the Jedi on a rented ship, with none of her own comforts, away from home and with no plan of what next, she'd fought a rising panic. She had tried to convince Qui-Gon to take her somewhere familiar, somewhere she could assure him would be safe -- Concord Dawn would shelter her, they were nothing if not loyal to the throne -- but he’d refused, saying they had to avoid Mandalorian worlds now. The bounty hunters would look for her there; she had to be somewhere unexpected.

She’d used her commlink once since leaving, to let her government know she was safe. An aide she didn’t recognise had answered, looking scared and uncomfortable but relieved to see her. After telling him to carry word of her safe escape, Satine had managed to get out of him that there had been an attack on Keldabe; he wouldn’t go into details, but it sounded bad. The Prime Minister was missing, presumed dead, along with a number of other ministers and representatives. Most of the Ruling Council were in a secure location, but a number of prisoners had escaped from their cells and it was suspected that that was the reason for the attack.

Members of House Vizsla were among the escapees.

Satine desperately wanted to return home. Her people needed her, now more than ever; it looked like an outright civil war was breaking out. But Qui-Gon had told her, calmly and sternly, that she wouldn’t be able to fix things by going back now. There was too much chaos, too much confusion. They would keep her safe until the situation stabilised -- the Ruling Council were safe, after all -- and then she could return to rebuild. The best she could do for her people was survive, and that meant evading Vizsla.

He was right, and that still stung, but now she had more pressing concerns. The bounty hunters had caught up with them somehow -- perhaps they’d been spotted at the space port they’d stopped at to refuel -- and Obi-Wan had been injured while protecting her from them. Qui-Gon had managed to get them away, but the ship was running on fumes so they hadn’t gotten far. 

Now, they were hiding in the wilderness, having been forced to shut down all of the ship's systems, including life support, for lack of fuel and to avoid detection. Qui-Gon had found the cave and helped her get Obi-Wan in, and while he was making several trips back and forth to bring their food and other basic survival supplies, she was charged with patching the padawan up.

Her hands only trembled a little as she carefully cleaned the cut with a sterile wipe, and then peeled the packaging off an adhesive bandage. She gently pressed it over the still-bleeding wound, though it mostly stuck to his hair so wasn't as firm as she would have liked. It would do for now, though.

Obi-Wan groaned under her hands. "Satine?"

"I'm here, Obi," she said soothingly. "I've patched you up, but you need to stay awake."

"'M awake..." He trailed off.

"Talk to me, come on," she encouraged, "Qui-Gon told me you have to stay awake until your head clears, you took quite a knock back there."

"I feel fine, just a little tired."

"Well you can't go to sleep. Where's that Jedi resolve?"

"Must've been knocked out of me."

"You'd better get it back," she sighed. "Don't forget, it's your fault we're out here."

"I'd rather it if you blamed Qui-Gon, Duchess. And where is here, anyway?" He tried to look around the cave, but with his head in her lap he couldn't see much beyond the fire and the opposite wall.

"I don't know. A cave of some kind." It had been dark, and she'd been too focused on supporting Obi-Wan's weight and not slipping in the mud, to notice much about the exterior when they'd found the cave.

"It's wet."

"It's _raining_."

"So you didn't try to dump me in a river?"

"Perhaps I should have." A smile ruined the seriousness she tried to put into her words.

"Let me up, I think I can sit." She gave him a gentle nudge to help him into a sitting position, but he immediately started to lean alarmingly to one side. She caught him before he could fall, pulling him back into her lap.

"That would be a no," she said drily. He blinked, trying to refocus his eyes, and she couldn't help but smile down at him. She started to stroke his hair, being careful of the bandage, and it was soft despite the dampness.

"How hard did they hit me?"

"I'll ask Qui-Gon to look at you when he's back with the rest of the supplies." She couldn't stop the hint of worry that crept into her voice.

"We Jedi are made of sturdy stuff, Satine," he reassured her. "I'll be fine."

"I don't doubt you will."" She resumed stroking his hair. "Besides, I'll need you in full physical health when this is over to discipline you for abducting me."

"Very well, your highness, I shall endeavour to do my best."

The rain continued through the night. A sodden Qui-Gon returned with the last of what they needed from the ship, checked over his apprentice and helped Satine to rehydrate their dinner, before sending them both to their bedrolls while he took the first watch. The downpour didn't ease until the morning, when the second sun peaked above the horizon, its light dappled by the dark blue leaves of the trees that surrounded them. Water continued to fall from the canopy above, in large droplets that splashed down to the undergrowth with a sound that mingled with the waking wildlife and echoed in a music that was unique to forests.

Obi-Wan was mostly recovered from his injury when he woke, and Satine suspected it largely in thanks to something Qui-Gon had done the previous night, something that involved the Force that she didn't fully understand. The Jedi Master marshalled them into a semblance of order, supervising as they packed up their camp and distributed their supplies amongst themselves, before leading them out of the cave. With their ship fuel-less it was worse than useless, so they would continue on foot, in a direction Qui-Gon insisted lead to a settlement. Satine was dubious, but had learned by now to trust him, so she did.

She was far outside of her comfort zone here, so given the circumstances, there was little else for her to do.


	5. Chapter 5

It felt like years, but Obi-Wan had only known Satine for six months. Six months on the move, constantly alert for signs of danger, always looking for the next place of safety. From their very first real conversation, they'd fallen into a comfortable friendship. Their playful banter came so easily anyone would think he'd been protecting her long before the New Mandalorians had made themselves a target. Now, they walked with Qui-Gon in a companionable silence, laden down as they were with supplies.

The rocky plains of Draboon were not the worst terrain they'd had to cross since leaving Mandalore, but the network of cliffs and canyons meant they were constantly going out of their way around or over one obstacle or another. Combined with the load, it left little breath for conversation. The navigation largely fell to him and Qui-Gon, who were used to orienting themselves on forgein planets -- the Duchess was more accustomed to urban environments. 

Their burdens were similarly distributed, though Satine was slowly improving her physical strength as her new, rougher way of life continued. They carried power cells and food rations, traded at a nearby settlement for spare parts and trinkets they'd picked up elsewhere for such a purpose. 

Now, the three of them trekked back to their ship in high spirits. There was no immediate danger, they had everything they could need for at least the next few cycles, and this planet was dry and bright and apparently free from any menacing wildlife. Perhaps he could even persuade Satine to teach him some Mando'a when they were back at the ship.

Of course, it was too good to last. 

They were at the base of a canyon when the noise of their passage distrurbed a small, four-legged creature that ran too fast for Obi-Wan to get a real look at what it was. As it scampered around a corner, they heard it dislodge some stones before suddenly changing direction and charging back, racing past them and back the way they had come.

A loud buzzing was the only warning they got before the swarm followed.

It was huge, a living, writhing cloud of flying insects each roughly the size of a fist. They had a pair of long, thin antenna protruding from a greenish-black head, and from a matching abdomen extended a thick, pointed stinger that glistened with a sickly shade of purple.

"Venom-mites!" Qui-Gon shouted in warning, a moment before igniting the lightsaber that flew to his hand. "Obi-Wan, the Duchess!"

The padawan didn't need telling twice. As the venom-mites closed in around them, he quickly shed the supplies he carried and gathered Satine in his arms. He crouched, focusing his mind and preparing to use the Force for some extra lift to get up the nearby cliff, to take her out of the immediate danger and leave his master to draw the swarm away. They'd performed similar manoeuvres countless times over the past six months, always Qui-Gon distracting the danger so that Obi-Wan could get the Duchess out of harm's way. Despite her protests the first few times, she'd eventually admitted it was best if he carried her in these situations, since he could use the Force for additional speed and distance.

But clearly none of those other times had involved escaping _upwards_.

As Obi-Wan had pushed off from the ground, Satine made her surprise at the unexpected movement clear; she gave an involuntary gasp next to his ear, and her fingers raked the back of his head and gripped his shoulder tightly. It was a perfectly innocent reaction, but from Satine, it was enough to distract him completely for the next few moments. Unfortunately, those were the moments where he needed to concentrate on landing.

The ground came to meet them too fast, and Obi-Wan couldn't maintain his hold on Satine; they both landed hard, and she tumbled away from him. Like most of Draboon, the top of this cliff was rocky and barren, so it was far from a soft landing. Thanks to years of drills and training, Obi-Wan rolled with his momentum automatically, coming into a standing position and immediately turning to check on his charge.

"Satine!" he cried. "Are you alright?"

A few feet away, she lay in a crumpled heap of blue robes, groaning as she struggled to sit up. Her expression was one of pain, and Obi-Wan felt it stab directly into his heart knowing that he had caused it. He reached for her to help her up, but as he did so her expression changed to shock.

"Obi, behind you!"

He spun around to see that some of the venom-mites had split from the main swarm to follow them. The small, angry cloud was rising over the edge of the cliff. His lightsaber was in his hand in an instant, swiping and slashing at them, the Force guiding his hand to strike accurately at the tiny, buzzing insects. But there were too many; they were coming as fast as he could hit them.

A small effort of will, and he _pushed_ them, using his hand but not physically connecting with any of the mites. The cloud fell back a few paces, and he didn't wait for them to re-form and come back at him.

"Time to go!" He gathered the winded Duchess in his arms once again, and set off at a run.

Whether it was because the danger was more pressing now, focusing his mind, or because Satine was still recovering from the fall, Obi-Wan's concentration didn't waver this time. He ran, adding Force-powered leaps between rocks to maintain his lead on their pursuers, trusting his feelings to guide where to place his feet and which path to take in the great maze of canyons that covered this planet. 

Red and orange rock sped beneath him, too fast for his eyes to keep track of, but his instincts lead him well, as they always did. The cloudless green sky stretched endlessly above him, more vibrant in the west where the single sun was setting. He paid no attention to their direction; he could find the ship later, when they were safe, but for now he had to avoid the toxic sting of the insects that pursued them.

He was fast, but so were they. He could feel the swarm following them, keeping pace, closing the gap inch by inch. He needed another way out.

Something glinted in the corner of his eye; a stream, glittering in the sunlight as it burst out of the rocks and made its winding way to a small pool before draining back underground. It only rained in the mountains of this planet, but underground streams sometimes surfaced, creating small oases of life in the otherwise barren desert of rock. They'd landed the ship next to one such place to make their camp, but it was far behind them now.

This one, however, could prove useful in other ways.

He altered their course slightly so that he was racing straight towards it. "Deep breath, Duchess," Obi-Wan called, and felt her chest expanding in response. She trusted him implicitly; he tried not to get distracted by that. He sucked in his own lungful of air, and dove in.

The shock of the cold water wasn't lessened by the fact that he was expecting it. He felt Satine's whole body tense up with it, but forced himself to remain calm and hold in his last breath. The pool was deeper than it looked and he consciously relaxed all of his muscles, allowing himself and Satine to drift apart. Perhaps helped by his own tranquility, Satine also relaxed, and gently twisted herself in the water to face him. They floated there, suspended in the middle of the pool, her hair fanning out around her face as his padawan braid drifted to the side. 

He looked up, through the surface of the water; the venom-mites buzzed angrily above them, unable to follow their prey. After a few moments, the swarm flew away. Obi-Wan could hear his own heartbeat in his ears and waited one, two, three, four, five beats, and then kicked his legs to propel himself up. His face broke the surface and he gasped for air, Satine following a moment later. Although he was certainly the fitter of the two, she hadn't been the one doing all the running. He struck out for the side of the pool and held onto the edge while he caught his breath.

"Are they gone?" Satine asked breathlessly.

Obi-Wan squinted in the direction the insect cloud had headed, sending out his awareness at the same time. "I think so," he replied. "I imagine it will try to re-join the main swarm. Hopefully Qui-Gon has dealt with it -- or at least escaped it."

"I suppose we should head back to the ship, and try to find him."

He glanced at the horizon, where the sun was almost low enough to touch it. "No, it's too late. It'll be dark soon, and I don't fancy losing you down an unseen canyon. It would be a terrible waste of all the effort we've gone to in protecting you." He flashed her a grin, and her only response was to roll her eyes at him. 

"Besides," he continued, "this is the best place we could have found to spend the night, since we're not at the ship."

He hauled himself out of the pool and turned to help Satine do the same, until they were both standing on the edge as the water ran from their clothes and hair to rejoin its origin.

Satine looked down at herself and huffed out a rather un-Duchess-like sigh. "Although I agree with your assessment of our situation, I do wish you hadn't decided to go for a swim at the end of the day. We'll be lucky if we don't freeze to death in these wet clothes."

She was right; now that she'd mentioned it, Obi-Wan realised that the heat his body had generated from the run had already faded, and his temperature was dropping rapidly in his sodden clothes. 

"My apologies, Duchess. But perhaps I can do something about that -- if you would hold still…” Obi-Wan closed his eyes and reached out with his mind, acknowledging his connections to everything around him, connections that were ever-present but that he kept out of his mind. He sent his awareness down one such connection, feeling the water that covered Satine's body and saturated her clothes, how it differed to the natural textiles of the fabrics, which had once been alive, and the vibrant thrum of Satine herself, still very much alive. The water did not live; it just was, like the rocks around them and the clouds above. Except... wait, that water _was_ alive -- no, not water. Blood. Satine was injured. 

_Focus. Complete the task at hand._

He stilled his mind and returned to that calm, meditative state. Concentrating, he separated the connections to the water from the others around it, and then _pulled_ on them, giving physical movement with a mental touch. He heard Satine gasp as he did, and quickly did the same to himself, taking slightly less time to distinguish the water from his own, more familiar body and clothing, and this time _pushing_ it away from him to join the rest. He opened his eyes as the water splashed back down into the pool. 

"That's certainly much better." She was trying to cover her surprise, but he'd been around her for long enough now that he could see it.

"You're hurt." He started scanning her body for injuries, trying to remember where the blood had been.

"What? No I'm -- where?" She stretched her arms out in front of herself and started inspecting herself, rotating her arms and looking over her body.

"There." He caught one of her arms, gently twisting it so that she could see the cut that ran down the outside of her hand and wrist. 

"Oh. I must have scratched it when you -- when we fell." It was only thanks to Qui-Gon's training that Obi-Wan did not immediately flush with embarrassment as he remembered his own failure. 

"You have your medpack?" he asked her. With her other hand, she unhooked it from her belt and passed it to him wordlessly as they both sank to the ground.

This was familiar to both of them. They had each patched each other's wounds countless times, or Qui-Gon's, or the master theirs. It came with the lifestyle. A sterile wipe to clean the area, a visual check for foreign objects, a quick squirt of bacta and then a clean bandage, in this case less to keep the wound closed and more to keep the dust out.

"There," he said at last. "All better." He looked back up to her face to offer her a small smile, and in the rapidly fading sunlight he saw the soft curves of her answering one. 

"Where would I be without my shining Jedi knight?" Her voice was soft, as though they were in a crowded room and she wanted her words to be for his ears alone. His fingers lingered on her wrist, and she made no move to pull away. Time seemed to stretch between them for a moment; no longer intent on his work, Obi-Wan noticed the peaceful silence of the landscape around them.

The sun slipped below the horizon, taking the last of its light with it. But Obi-Wan didn't need light to see Satine. He could feel her presence, warm and thrumming with life just in front of him. His fingers, still on her wrist, were aware of her pulse beating just beneath her skin. He didn't need to use his eyes to know she was beautiful.

And maybe it was some leftover part of the pursuit, the dregs of adrenaline or serotonin still in his bloodstream, or maybe he still had a lot to learn from Qui-Gon about control, but something pushed Obi-Wan in that instant to close the gap between himself and Satine.

He kissed her. 

Her lips were soft and warm against his own, and the smell of her skin filled his nose, comforting and intoxicating and pure _Satine_. He felt sparks in the pit of his stomach as he realised she was kissing him back, slow and sweet. He could lose himself in this moment forever.

When they broke apart, they were both a little breathless.

"Obi," she sighed, and it sent a shiver of heat through his body.

He closed his eyes, and tried to center himself as his master had taught him. "I shouldn't have done that."

"But you did."

He paused. "But I did."

Another pause.

"I suppose we should get some rest if we're walking back to the ship tomorrow." A silent understanding passed between them at her words; neither of them should have done it, and it couldn't happen again. 

They each carried a pouch of rations and a water gourd on their belts, so their evening meal was simple and bland, like many of the past six months. The night was mild enough that they didn't light a fire, and Obi-Wan set up his mobile proximity sensor with a wide radius.

Satine found what she deemed to be the most comfortable patch of rock and they settled down for the night. This was not their first time sleeping rough away from Qui-Gon, so there was none of the awkward argument of who went where; Satine lay on her side, and Obi-Wan lay behind her, his chest pressed into her back. It was the most practical arrangement, conserving warmth while also ensuring that each knew where the other was. If Obi-Wan secretly found Satine's hair the most calming scent in the world, well, that was just another benefit. 

"You still haven't thanked me, you know," she said softly.

"Thanked you? For what?" he responded, slightly confused.

"For warning you." Her tone was very matter-of-fact, as it always was. "If it hadn't been for me, those venom-mites on the cliff would have snuck up on you."

He snorted. "You're right. It's not like I have any other extra-sensory abilities that could have helped me there. I would have been a goner for sure, and for that, Duchess, I owe you my life. You have my most heartfelt gratitude."

She responded by elbowing him in the ribs. "You'd make a terrible politician."

"Then it's a good thing I have other career options."

She hummed quietly, managing to convey an amused skepticism, but didn't say anything further. 

"Goodnight, Satine," he murmured into the back of her neck.

"Goodnight, Obi."

He listened to the sounds of her breathing, eventually slowing as she succumbed to sleep, and then allowed himself to follow her.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains explicit sexual content.

Satine was almost impressed. Despite spending the vast majority of their time in such close quarters, Obi-Wan had managed to avoid being alone with her since they'd left Draboon. It was not for want of trying; as the weeks had passed, she had found her mind dwelling more and more on the kiss they should never have shared, and wanting to talk to him about it. It tortured her, leaving her wanting more and yet wishing it had never even happened. 

Part of her selfishly hoped Obi-Wan was feeling the same. Was he avoiding her because he felt the same way but knew they shouldn't act on their feelings? Or did he regret it, and wished she would forget it ever happened… At least if it was the latter, he wouldn't feel the same inner turmoil she did. If he would just _talk_ to her, they could at least get on the same page.

It was on yet another backwater Outer Rim planet that his time ran out. They had landed within walking distance of a settlement, and Qui-Gon had decided that he needed to go buy more supplies for them. While he was out, they were each left with chores to complete around the ship; constant scuffles with bounty hunters made for a neverending list of repairs and maintenance.

Satine was fortunate, and her diagnostic scan of the ship's internal systems returned very few issues that needed dealing with. She re-pressurised the emergency life support system and set the navicomputer to re-calibrating itself before going in search of Obi-Wan, who she found scrubbing the carbon scoring off the hull.

"You missed a spot."

He paused his scraping, but didn't look at her.

"Don't you have a diagnostic output to work through, Duchess?"

She could tell it was meant as a dismissal, but she refused to leave. She also refused to allow herself to think about how he'd used her title instead of her name, without a hint of a smile.

"It's done. Well, the navigational system is running a calibration, but if I tried to help I'd do more harm than good," she amended.

"There's more carbon scoring on the other wing. With your _expert eye_ I'm sure you could make a better job of it than I."

That was sarcasm, but it was just a shade too biting to be humorous. 

"Obi-Wan, I --"

He didn't let her finish. "I need more dissolvant. Excuse me." Pushing past her, he disappeared back inside the ship.

She sighed. He was being distant -- polite, as ever, but distant. Undeterred, she followed, through the small cargo hold to the corridor that led to the engine room.

"I know you're avoiding me," she snapped. 

"I'm not avoiding you. I'm just focusing on the task at hand." He reached the storage unit he was looking for, one of several tucked into alcoves between the various engine feeds and support struts. 

She stepped up behind him so that her body blocked his way out, effectively trapping him.

"I just want to talk," she said, more softly this time.

He shut the door of the locker, and realised his predicament. He didn't meet her eyes, but sighed and scrubbed a hand through his short hair. 

"Alright. Let's talk."

She opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly, she didn't know what she wanted to say. It was very unlike her.

He finally met her gaze, sensing her hesitation. There was something in his eyes, an emotion she didn't recognise in him. It was... tender, softening his face. After a few moments of silence, his eyes darted down to her lips and back. 

Still unable to form words, she decided to take the Mandalorian approach: action.

The space between them vanished as she stepped forward, grabbing the front of his robes and pulling him down to catch his mouth in a fierce, heated kiss. She pushed him back until he hit the storage lockers just behind him, pressing herself against him. 

His response was immediate, his lips parting with a sigh as his hands found her waist, pulling her closer. His body seemed to relax as she leant into him, as though he'd been holding himself back from something.

"Perhaps I didn't want to talk after all," she whispered against his lips.

The kiss deepened as his arms encircled her, holding her close. Their chores were forgotten as they lost themselves in each other for a few moments, nothing existing beyond the warm press of his body, his lips, his tongue.

Eventually, they broke apart for air, and he pushed her gently by the shoulders to step back.

"Satine, I can't," he said softly, closing his eyes. "I'm a Jedi. I can't -- _we_ can't --" His anguish was written plainly on his face. She hated being the cause of it, and she hated how it mirrored her own.

"I'm sorry."

His eyes opened, and he reached out to take her hands in his own. "Please, don't be." He took a deep breath, steadying himself.

"Obi--"

She was interrupted by a noise from outside that told them Qui-Gon had returned. They both glanced in the direction of the hold.

"We should help to unload the supplies," he said.

She let out a breath of her own before dropping his hands and turning to walk back to the entrance of the ship. Sure enough, the Jedi Master was opening the new crates he had recently purchased and was unloading the contents into their respective places on board.

"I hope you got all that carbon scoring off," he called, seeing them approaching. "No-one wants to buy a ship that looks like it's been on the losing side of a fight."

"We're selling the ship?" Obi-Wan asked, surprised.

Qui-Gon nodded. "They've put a bounty on it. We'll try to trade it for another at the next port."

The next port didn't have a lot in the way of options, and their need meant they couldn't be choosy. The one they eventually managed to acquire had... quirks. 

The autopilot would often lean to the left, even in hyperspace, so someone always needed to be at the controls to nudge it back into the proper path. It had originally been built with two cabins, for the captain and one or two crew, but at some point in its life the crew's cabin had been converted into extra storage space so the only bed on board was the captain's. At least it was large enough for two, and the steering issue meant there would never be a time when all three of them would be asleep at the same time.

The fact that it was clearly a former smuggler's vessel didn't bother Satine as much as it might have. She was used to taking what they could get now, and besides, at least now that they were using it the ship wasn't being used for smuggling any more.

Their first night cycle on board, it was Qui-Gon watching the blinking cockpit controls and the empty stretch of space through the transparisteel viewport. Obi-Wan and Satine were lying in darkness, supposedly sleeping, but Satine couldn't take her mind off the man lying barely a foot away from her.

"Obi-Wan?" she whispered into the darkness.

There was a pause, a moment of silence where she wondered if he had already fallen asleep, before the reply came. 

"Satine?"

She hesitated, suddenly unsure of exactly what she wanted to say. "Why aren't the Jedi allowed to love?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why is it forbidden for you to have those feelings? How do you even stop yourself? Do they train you not to.. care in that way?"

"It's... more complicated than that. It's not... forbidden, exactly, but we must be mindful of our feelings. Jedi are supposed to dedicate themselves to serving the Force and the Light side; to doing what's best for all living things. In order to do that, we must live selflessly, and that means we avoid forming attachments to anything that might cloud our judgement."

"But surely loving someone is the ultimate commitment to the Light? True, deep, unconditional love for another… Is that not Light itself?" She stared up into the darkness above her, trying to make sense of her thoughts. "I was beginning to think I understood the Jedi ways, that perhaps you weren't so different to the Mandalorians of old; two orders dedicated to serving their cause, even if one is peace and the other war. But perhaps the two are as night and day after all."

She heard him take a breath to begin speaking several times before any words came out, but she waited for his response. "Imagine if you did love someone like that," he finally said quietly. "And imagine if you were put in a position where you had to choose between that person and everyone under your rule. You could only save one, and the other would be lost. Which do you think you would choose?"

"I..." Satine had been about to say her people, of course, she would always choose them. But if she had a love like that... and then would lose it... Was she certain that that would be the choice she would make? She sat up, as though it would help her think better.

She heard a rustling that sounded as though he were doing the same. "So you see, a Jedi can never be put in that situation. We must always choose the option that saves the most lives, no matter who is at stake."

"I see."

"I must admit, I am curious about the similarities you see between the Jedi and the Mandalorian warriors."

"Well, both train their future members from a young age, and are fiercely dedicated to their cause. Both have a unique style of fighting that is part of their identity. Both accept children from outside their ranks and raise them as though they were their own. Neither will engage in frivolous or casual relationships, both have a strong honour code that they follow above all else."

"Wait -- ‘frivolous or casual relationships’? Pardon, Duchess, but aren't Mandalorians known for their conquering, pillaging, and -- well..."

"You are getting us confused with other warmongering peoples," she cut in sharply. "In Mandalorian culture, sex between those not married is considered immoral."

"Really? That's... Interesting."

"For Mandalorians, marriage is mostly _about_ children. It's two people committing themselves to helping each other raise any child they conceive or adopt together. I will admit, the ‘no sex’ part is extremely outdated since if you find yourself with a child you didn't plan for, it's infinitely more likely you adopted it, but it's part of who we are. Just like the more zealous clans who refuse to even remove their helmet in front of anyone who isn't their dedicated partner."

"I consider myself fortunate that you do not belong to such a clan."

She was thrown off by the sudden softness in his words. "What do you mean?"

"I only meant -- not seeing your face --" he stuttered, "it -- would have been a shame."

"A shame," she repeated. She found herself unconsciously leaning towards where she imagined he was. "What would you have missed?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Your eyes," he whispered back. "The strong slant of your nose. The way your mouth is quick to twist into a frown, but slow to smile. It makes the smiles more meaningful. The pale colour of your cheeks --" His fingers brushed over her cheekbones with his words, the lightest of touches, yet leaving tingling trails in their wake. "The soft gold of your hair." His hand glided over the top of her ear, brushing the strands tucked behind it.

It was dark, but somehow she still knew where his face was. She leaned forward just enough to press the lightest of kisses on his lips, and it sent a shower of sparks shooting through her core. She held herself still, focused only on the gentle press of his mouth, the soft brush of his cheek on her nose, the smell of his skin, so close, so _him_ , intoxicating and addictive.

She pulled back just an inch; his fingers were still in her hair, his hand hovering next to her face.

"I know I shouldn't," she whispered, "but I can't stop thinking about that first one you gave me." She could hear his breathing, heavier now than before, and she was close enough to feel the warmth radiating from his face.

"I don't stop myself from feeling emotions; it's the opposite. I am very much aware of how I feel... about you."

"But you can't let it get in the way of your mission."

"Well... Satine, in this case, you _are_ the mission..."

As Satine's brain caught up with his implication, his mouth was back on hers, sending a searing heat through her whole body.

The kiss was harder this time, more insistent, and when he slipped his tongue in she couldn't help the whimper that escaped her throat. His hands cupped her face, thumbs stroking her cheeks as he kissed her. Her awareness dwindled to only the places he was touching her; her lips, her face, her mouth.

He caught her lower lip in his teeth, sending a jolt of electricity through her body. Emboldened in the dark, she placed a hand against his chest, feeling the firm muscles under his nightshirt, and then pushed until he lay back onto the bed. Neither of them broke this kiss as they went; Obi-Wan curled his fingers through her hair as if to hold her head to his.

Propping herself up with one arm, she continued to kiss him, her body pressed against his side, the fingers of her supporting arm just able to reach his head and comb through his hair. His braid tangled in her fingers; it felt so _intimate_ to be touching it. 

Her other hand slid down his chest, over his stomach, and found the hem of his shirt. She slipped it underneath, finally able to touch his skin, running her fingers through the sparse hair and feeling the contours of his muscles. He responded to her touches, little gasps against her mouth, each one adding to the heat that was coiling in her core. When she rubbed a thumb over one of his nipples he bit her lip again, harder this time, and it was her turn to gasp. 

He sucked on her lip, teasing it with his tongue, until she pulled it free and clashed their mouths together again with a groan. Her hand was moving again; she couldn't get enough of the feel of his skin, burning hot under her touch, and she felt how his whole body tensed when she dragged her fingers over the soft skin at his hips. She did it again, and this time he moaned and bucked his hips.

She wanted more. Keeping the touch light, her hand continued downwards, over the soft fabric of his nightclothes. He wasn't wearing anything underneath, she discovered, feeling the hard outline of him, straining against the light material. Feeling it sent another spike of desire coursing through her, and a tightening between her legs.

The hand in her hair pushed her back, but it was just so that he could sit up; in one swift movement, his shirt came off, and she didn't listen for where it landed because he was taking her head in his hands again, catching her lips with his and pulling her back down for more. This time her whole hand went to his crotch, cupping him, feeling his full length twitch against her palm.

While she knew the theory, Satine had never gone as far as this in any of her past teenage explorations. Part of her was surprised by how _hard_ it was, and _warm_ \- but most of her was intoxicated by the intimacy, and by pure desire. Every movement of her hand was getting a reaction from him, something no-one else got to do to him, and it felt _so good_ , especially after their months of hardship.

She curled her fingers around his waistband, and then paused.

"Can I?" she whispered.

" _Yes_ ," he breathed in reply. 

She didn't hesitate, pulling it down as she resumed their kiss, and then pressing her hand to the newly exposed skin. He let out a long, shuddering breath, hot against her face, and she wrapped her fingers around his cock, marvelling at how soft the skin was. They weren't kissing any more, just pressing their mouths together, and he seemed incapable of doing anything more than gasping for breath as he came undone at her touch. 

She started to move her hand, slow, gentle strokes, feeling the slide of his skin and noting the change in his breathing. He rocked his hips into her touch, small thrusts that matched her rhythm, and she got the impression he wasn't even conscious he was doing it. Experimentally, she swiped her thumb over the head, and was rewarded with another low moan. Her thumb came away wet. 

Still stroking him, she started to kiss her way along his jaw, stopping to suck at the spot just below his ear. She gradually increased the pace of her hand as her mouth moved down his neck, kissing and sucking and gently biting where it joined his shoulders, scraping her teeth along his collar bone, feeling his whole body shudder as she did so. His braid was still twined in her fingers, so she gave it a tug as she raised her head, and he managed to get the idea as their mouths met once again. He was even capable of returning the kiss, albeit sloppily, at least until she upped her speed again and his mouth went slack. 

His breath came in moans and gasps as she continued to touch him, sometimes adding an extra squeeze or a twist of her hand and using his reaction to gauge their success. A thought came unbidden to her mind -- what would he _taste_ like? -- and it sent a flash of _want_ straight to her core.

As if he felt it, he moaned louder, and his breathing stuttered.

"Sa _tine_ ," he moaned, "I’m -- I’m -- _oh_."

His whole body tensed as he shook with his release, hot come spurting over her first and onto his stomach. She stroked him through it, slowing when his breathing did.

He lay panting in the dark, and she tried to imagine what he looked like.

When he spoke, his voice was rougher than usual. "That was... Incredible."

She felt him reach out for something, and then a moment later he was gently wiping her fingers with a cloth; he must have summoned it from across the room. The gentle act made her want to kiss him again, so she did.

"Hang on," he mumbled against her lips, "let me --"

He finished cleaning himself off, and she listened to the sound of him shuffling and breathing in the dark as she waited for him. He sent the cloth away; she didn't know how, or where, and she didn't care because he was kissing her again, rising up onto his side and running a hand over the soft material of her top. 

His motions were more relaxed now, languid, almost lazy. He pulled her close, his hand never stopping as it roamed over her body, and she melted into his touch. His tongue probed her mouth gently, his lips so soft against her own.

As she had done to him earlier, his hand went to her waist to slip under the hem of her sleep-top. Slowly, lightly, he dragged his fingertips over the smooth, sensitive skin, making her shiver with anticipation. He traced the underside of her breast with his knuckles as desire pooled in the pit of her stomach, before cupping it in his warm hand. He gave it a gentle squeeze and brushed his thumb over her nipple, the sensation travelling straight to the spot between her legs where she could already feel her own arousal making itself known. 

With a gentle push, he tipped her over onto her back. His hand traveled down again, over her stomach as he started pressing kisses down her neck. As he moved to stroke her inner thigh, she felt her loose top pushed up by an unseen force, baring her breasts to the air.

"I'm sure that's -- cheating," she tried, but speech was made difficult as his mouth closed around her nipple. She canted her hips, desperate for a little friction, moaning shamelessly. His fingers found what she wanted and rubbed her through her leggings and underwear, finally bringing some delicious relief.

"Obi," she moaned. She was so wet for him, she could feel it, and she was sure he could too, soaking through her clothes. His head returned to kiss her and she met his mouth hungrily, a clash of lips and teeth and tongue. His hand withdrew, but only for a moment, for then it was pressing flat against her stomach and sinking down, his fingertips brushing under her waistband. 

"Can I?" he asked, in repetition of her own words.

"If you don't, I will," was all she said in reply, and she felt his grin against her mouth. His fingers combed downwards through the small nest of curly hair, and then, _finally_ , they were sinking into her slick folds. 

He rubbed her in slow, gentle circles, learning where the sweet spot was by the sound she made whenever he hit it. She lost herself in the feeling, waves of pleasure rippling through her body, rutting against his fingers. His hand dipped lower as he slipped a finger inside her, going in easily, she was so ready for him. 

After several moments he added a second, stretching her deliciously, and crooking both in a way that made her cry out. He was using his palm to maintain the pressure on her clit, but it wasn't the same, or enough. He seemed to realise this, and she felt a different, ghostly touch there. Okay, he was _definitely_ cheating now, but his mouth was back on her breast, licking and sucking, and her brain was short-circuiting from pure pleasure. She could feel it building, the heat coiling in her gut as he worked her in three different places towards completion.

It didn't take long. Her breathing started coming in ragged gasps, and he moved his hand to focus solely on her clit, upping his pace. Her orgasm crashed into her, her body shaking with it as she saw stars. Her back arched off the bed as she rode it out, before collapsing back down again, boneless. Endorphins swirled through her brain and sang in her veins as her heart slowed to its usual pace. He kissed her cheek tenderly, and she turned her head to nuzzle him.

That night, wrapped in his arms, she had the best sleep she'd had in months.


	7. Chapter 7

Sitting cross-legged on the floor of the ship's common area, Obi-Wan allowed himself to relax a little. Qui-Gon had selected a system that looked promising as a place for them to shelter in, and it was a long journey to get there. No-one was tracking them, so for now at least, they could all breathe easily. 

Due to the myriad of space obstacles between their current position and their destination (including a nebula, several asteroid fields and a large quasar) they were having to make a series of hyperspace jumps to avoid any unfortunate collisions. Their latest transport, however, had a slow navicomputer, which meant that after each jump it needed a good 10 minutes to calculate the next. With such a long period of empty space travel ahead of them, Satine had finally agreed to teach him a few words of her native Mando'a language.

" _Su cuy'gar_." Satine spoke slowly and clearly, enunciating each syllable.

" _Su cuy'gar_ ," Obi-Wan repeated.

"It means 'hello' - the literal translation is 'you're still alive'," she explained. "A relic from the old days, but given the current state of my people..."

He smirked. "I think it still applies."

"Okay, now try: _me'vaar ti gar_?" Her voice rose in pitch at the end, like a question, and he imitated it.

" _Me'vaar ti gar_?"

"That's 'how are you', or 'what's new with you'. And unlike you Coruscanti, when a Mandalorian asks you that they're expecting a real answer." She gave him a look that seemed to convey exactly what she thought of the Core Worlders' habit of asking a question that wasn't supposed to receive a reply.

"So how do I respond?"

" _Naas_ , if you're feeling Coruscanti." she said playfully.

He couldn't help but grin back at her. "And if I'm feeling Mandalorian?"

"Then you have to learn enough vocabulary and grammar structures to construct your own sentence."

"So for now, I'll just remain Coruscanti," he laughed. 

"You never know... If this war continues to drag on, I may make a half-decent Mandalorian of you by the end of it, _ner cabur_."

"I've heard the best way to truly understand a language is to learn the words that don't translate into your own."

"Alright then... Hmm..." She paused for a moment to think. " _Shereshoy_. It means living your life to the fullest extent, relishing each day you live to see and taking every opportunity for new experiences."

" _Shereshoy_. I like it. I see how it could be an important state of mind for a warrior people -- but you could still apply the same sentiment to your new ways."

"Yes, my father believed the same thing. It is what drove him to create change in the first place."

"He sounds like he was a great man."

"He was." She paused for a moment, smiling, lost in thought, before an idea struck her.

"There's one more word I could teach you today: _cyare_."

There was something new in her eyes as she said it, a warmth and a... vulnerability.

" _Cyare_ ," he repeated softly.

"It means 'beloved'." 

Time seemed to stop at her words, and it was like they were both suddenly leaning off the edge of a precipice, about to decide whether to step back or take the plunge. They hadn't had another night alone together like their first one, never able to escape Qui-Gon or his chores. Instead, they had stolen glances, caresses, even a few kisses, but they were yet to talk about what any of it meant. 

The seconds stretched.

A loud siren cut through the air, shattering the moment like glass. Interrupted, they both jumped to their feet to investigate the emergency alarm, heading for the cockpit. 

Qui-Gon sat in the pilot's seat, rapidly flicking the switches that would return the ship to manual control, his movements swift but still controlled.

"We've been tracked," he began as soon as they entered. "A large carrier just dropped out of hyperspace and is heading straight for us. The computer has nearly finished its calculations; we should be able to make our next jump and evade them."

The stars visible through the forward viewport swerved to one side as Qui-Gon, having completely disabled the autopilot, swung their ship around to be ready for the jump and also point away from the oncoming danger. 

"Co-ordinates ready in 3... 2..." Another insistent beeping started, separate from the first. The Jedi master swore quietly. "They've got a tractor beam."

As always, his voice was completely calm, but it did little to mitigate the angry beepings of the console and the impending seriousness of their situation. Obi-Wan could feel Satine's rising anxiety through the Force.

"What should we do, master?"

"Take Satine to the cargo hold and seal yourselves in. When they try to board us, I'll slip into their ship and disable the tractor beam, then we can break away. We probably won't have long so I'll have to break the docking tube; it's imperative that you keep the cargo hold sealed. I can seal myself in the cockpit, but the rest of the ship will depressurise."

"And if anyone boards us, they'll be sucked out into space," Obi-Wan finished for him.

He glanced at Satine; she was used to his master’s slightly crazy plans by now, so she was only giving the two of them a look of horror rather than arguing outright.

"Why can't we remain in the cockpit?" she asked.

"The cockpit seals; the cargo bay locks," Qui-Gon replied, the knowing twinkle in his eye saying that he already knew this was their best shot, no matter how insane.

Obi-Wan decided it was best to just get on with it. "I understand," he said, grabbing the Duchess by the hand and leading her to the hold. 

After they'd sealed themselves in, they could only wait. Obi-Wan knelt in front of the door, placing his lightsaber in front of himself and focusing on it. In the meditation pose he found his center, calming himself in preparation for whatever lay ahead.

Satine was not quite so calm. She paced behind him, and he could feel her worry clearly through the Force; both for the two of them, and for Qui-Gon, going out alone again. Obi-Wan knew the wisdom in his master's plans, and the importance of following orders quickly in situations such as these, so he never allowed himself to fret over alternative options.

It didn't take long for the echoes and bangs of a forced docking to reach them. There was a distant hiss of the airlock pressure equalising, and then heavy footsteps reverberating through the metal floor. The ship was small enough that the noise carried to them easily, even with the background hum of the engines.

"Search the ship," came a deep voice, muffled through the durasteel door. "And watch out for the Jedi."

Obi-Wan reached out with his senses to follow their movements through the ship; checking the galley, the cockpit, the cabins, the refresher. Finally, they came to the hold.

"The door's sealed! They must be inside."

"Well, cut it open!"

There came a clicking sound, and then the whine and buzz of an electric saw.

His eyes snapped open. They couldn't be allowed to breach the door; that would endanger their escape. It sounded like there were three of them, and Obi-Wan decided he'd rather take his chances in a fight with them than against the vacuum of space.

He leapt to his feet and hit the door release, revealing the bounty hunters; there were indeed three. A trandoshan, a rhodian and a humanoid wearing a helmet -- Obi-Wan suspected they were in fact human, but he had no particular desire to find out one way or the other. The trio were surprised by the door swishing open before them, but recovered quickly at seeing himself and Satine. 

" _What are you--_ " Satine shrieked at him, but was cut off as she was forced to duck for cover from their blaster fire.

"Get behind me, Satine," he called, moving to stand in front of her and parrying the bolts with his lightsaber. "These rabble are no match for a Jedi."

His words had the intended effect. Enraged, the hunters charged towards him. He reached out with the Force to re-seal the door behind them, and then the fight was on.

He felled the rhodian quickly with a deflected blaster bolt to the chest, and the others seemed to realise that shooting wasn't the smartest course of action for them. As his comrade fell, the trandoshan caught him and threw the body at Obi-Wan before lunging towards Satine.

Obi-Wan went down hard, the weight of the rhodian knocking all the air out of his lungs. He heaved it off and tried to struggle to his feet, but only got as far as his knees when the helmeted one came at him with an electrostaff. His lightsaber was in his hand in an instant, parrying the blows weakly. He drew on the Force for strength and rolled to the side, giving him enough space to jump back to his feet.

He got a glimpse of Satine getting a few solid punches in on her opponent before the electrostaff was back, demanding his full attention. His Jedi training kicked in, years of drilling the forms taking over, but he didn't have his usual edge. He was distracted; he kept wanting to look at Satine, to make sure she was alright. She was holding her own for now, using her smaller size and speed to her advantage; for a pacifist, she certainly knew an awful lot of combat techniques, but then again, she was Mandalorian. He could tell however she was tiring quickly, and the few blows she was taking hit hard, coming from the huge trandoshan. 

He had to finish his opponent off quickly so that he could get to her. No sooner had he had this thought than the engines flared to a roar and the whole ship shook, knocking him off-balance and saving the bounty hunter from a blow that would have knocked him out. Qui-Gon must have disabled the tractor beam and made it back to the cockpit, and now he was ripping the ship free from the docking tube. A siren sounded, warning of depressurisation in the primary access corridor and all common areas.

He leapt back to his feet, preparing to strike at the bounty hunter again, but he noticed Satine wasn't quite so fast to recover and was struggling with the trandoshan. He was so distracted that, as the helmeted bounty hunter lunged for him once more, he didn't see the feint until it was too late. The attack was meant to draw his lightsaber while the bounty hunter drew his blaster. The shot took him in the thigh and he cried out from the pain, dropping to one knee.

"Obi!" Satine called, trying to twist away from her opponent and dart towards him, but the trandoshan took advantage of her distraction. He grabbed her bodily and, with a roar, lifted her clear off the floor, about to throw her across the hold.

Obi-Wan reacted instinctively. He reached out with both his hand and his mind, to catch her before she struck the far wall, but the serene place from where he usually sought the Force was no longer present inside him. He boiled with emotion, with fear and anger and desperation, and not only was it driving him to protect her but it was blocking him from the one tool he could use from this position. 

He hesitated for the barest fraction of a moment, and then he pushed through it anyway. 

The Force that he gripped on the other side was not the calm font of energy he was used to. No, this was a turbulent, writhing torrent of power that flowed into him as soon as he touched it, wrapping itself around his very core and infusing him with more strength than he had ever known.

The Dark Side. 

He slowed Satine's flight in mid-air with but a thought, setting her down and turning to his opponent. It was a simple matter to send him flying into the nearby stack of empty crates. He curled his fingers into a fist, his lips peeling back in a snarl as he bent the durasteel boxes around the bounty hunter, creating a cage that was moulded to his body. Destruction came so easily to him now; it was intoxicating. 

The trandoshan had gotten his blaster back out as he'd taken the few strides he needed to reach Satine, but Obi-Wan could laugh at the absurdity. There would be no hostage situation here. Another flick of his wrist and the oversized lizard was pinned to the ceiling-

The scream snapped him out of it. He'd been so focused on hurting her attacker he hadn't noticed the clawed fist in Satine's hair. The trandoshan had not relinquished his grip when Obi-Wan had hurled him upwards, so Satine's head had been forced up with him, and she had screamed from the pain. 

The Dark Side slipped from Obi-Wan's horrified grasp and the bounty hunter, no longer supported by the air, fell back down, releasing Satine as he twisted and attempted to save his landing. Obi-Wan dived for the dropped blaster and sent a stun blast his way, and the mass of scaled muscle stopped moving. 

The shot had barely connected when Obi-Wan was discarding the weapon in favour of rushing to the Duchess' side.

"Satine?" he asked, searching her for signs of injury. His hands flitted from her head to her shoulders to hovering above her body, like a flustered nursemaid.

"My neck," she gasped, bringing her hand up to it.

"I'm sure it's nothing a bacta spray can't fix," he soothed, desperately hoping his words were true and taking her hand in his own. "You've got to lie still; try not to move too much until we can get you some medical attention." She only squeezed his hand, hard, and breathed deeply, fighting against the pain.

He could feel her presence through the Force as she sought to control herself; strong, unbreakable, hard as durasteel. No, durasteel was weak and brittle compared to Satine's will -- hard as _beskar_. Nothing could break her.

It only reminded him of his own failings.

He was disgusted with himself. Even if it had only been for a few seconds in total, he'd used the Dark Side, allowed it to tempt and corrupt him while he used its destructive powers. He would never be a Jedi now; he'd be forced out of the Order. There was no way Qui-Gon hadn't felt what he'd done, and his master would be so disappointed in him. Not angry -- that wasn't the Jedi way. True Jedi didn't let their emotions get the better of them.

They also didn't let shame stop them from doing what they needed to. He reached for his commlink.

"Master?"

"Obi-Wan?" came the response.

"Satine is injured. We need to make a stop somewhere with a medical facility."

"I'm sure we'll find one at our destination; it will take too long to reprogram our route now. How bad is the injury?" Qui-Gon's voice was calm as ever, and unreadable over the comm.

"Difficult to tell, but it's to her neck."

"Ah. Keep her still, and I'll help you move her when we arrive."

"Yes, master."

He returned the small device to its place on his belt, being careful not to jostle the woman lying before him as he did so.

"I suppose now would be a good time to teach you _kadala_ ," Satine said in a strained voice.

"Unless it means 'hush, save your strength until we can get you to a healer', now is not the time for you to be teaching me anything." He gently smoothed a stray lock of hair back from her face.

She laughed, which turned into a wince and a small, pained noise. "Fine, I suppose you're right."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence for a time, Obi-Wan absently stroking Satine's hair as he tried desperately not to think about what would happen when they landed. Once Satine was seen to, Qui-Gon would surely discipline him for his severe lack of control, probably even send him back to Coruscant to stand before the Council. He might even be stripped of his padawan status, sent to one of the various service corps he had told Satine about, that was if he wasn't kicked out of the Order entirely--

"Say something to distract me, Obi. All I can think about is pain."

Satine's voice jolted him out of his downward spiral. Never mind what was coming in the future; here and now, he could be of some comfort to her. He should treasure these moments; in his panic he was surely overthinking things, but nevertheless, after today he would be putting some distance between himself and the Duchess, whether that be imposed by his master or himself.

He pushed his thoughts of the future aside, and instead wracked his brain for memories of the stories he had heard as a youngling in the Temple. They would be just the thing.

***

Obi-Wan gently closed the door on a sleeping Satine's room, the soft beeping of the medical monitors cutting out as he turned to the sterile corridor of the medical facility. It was deserted save for his master, who wore a serious expression.

"I believe we are due a conversation, padawan."

Obi-Wan swallowed. "Yes, master."

"I know what you did, with those bounty hunters." Qui-Gon's face gave nothing away, something for which Obi-Wan was glad; it made it easier.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, casting his eyes down to the floor out of shame. "I will prepare to return to Coruscant immediately."

"Don't be over-dramatic, Obi-Wan. Everyone makes mistakes. The important thing is that you let go of that power." 

He had expected to be reprimanded, lectured, or at least reminded of the countless lessons he had been given about mindfulness and the Dark Side. The gentle forgiveness and understanding in Qui-Gon's voice was a balm to his burning shame, and he allowed himself to look back at the kind face above him.

"Now, you must learn not to take it in the first place," his master continued. "Be mindful of your feelings, my young padawan. It is perfectly natural to have them, but you must not let them cloud your judgement or block your connection to the Force."

"What if I can't?" The question slipped out before Obi-Wan could stop it, fear and self-doubt taking over for a brief moment.

But Qui-Gon simply smiled, placing a hand on his apprentice's shoulder. "I know you have great strength within you. All you have to do is find it." There it was again; the shining beacon of his master's trust, belief and approval that was always there to pick Obi-Wan up when he felt he could not go on. He was right; it had only been a momentary slip. Everyone made mistakes, even Jedi, and he would learn from it and do better next time. 

"Thank you, master."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter contains explicit sexual content.

The one-year anniversary of her time on the run passed unremarked. In fact, Satine missed it completely; it was a few days afterwards that an idle thought prompted her to do the relevant calculations in her head. One year under the care and protection of two _jetii_. In some ways it felt longer than that, but in others, it was hard to believe so much time had passed.

She looked at the pair of them, meditating in silence on the galley floor. What this ship lacked in physical space it made up for in navigational electronics, so while the autopilot took them through the hyperspace jumps, the two Jedi were using the rare moment of free time to go through some exercises. One year on, she still didn't understand what exactly it was that they were doing, but she still appreciated being able be present during them. The sessions had become significantly fewer since they had began their journey together, and she found herself feeling nostalgic for the times she had watched them in the relative safety of those homes on Mandalore.

Qui-Gon was much the same as he had been one year ago; stoic, calm, wise, though now she knew to look for the gleam in his eye when he was making a wry joke, or the crease in his brow when he was concerned for one of the others. Obi-Wan, on the other hand, had definitely relaxed. He'd gone from speaking rarely, usually only when his master brought him into a conversation, to offering his thoughts and opinions freely. His body language had become more open, and he apparently focused faster -- certainly if Qui-Gon's chiding during their training sessions were anything to go by. 

But the biggest difference was how she looked at him now. That had certainly changed; they had gone from strangers, to formal acquaintances, to friends, to something more. What they were now, however, she wasn't sure. There were feelings, no doubt; she could feel her own now, just looking at him. She also knew he felt something similar, although after her most recent injury, he had made it clear that he no longer wanted to pursue them.

She would be lying if she said there wasn't a small part of her that was relieved he had ended whatever it had been between them. She had always known it was not something that could last, not without one or both of them making a huge change -- and sacrifice. The fact that she had even considered such a thing a possibility terrified her, for it spoke volumes about the depth of her feelings for him. She didn't dare to even use the word that hovered at the edge of her consciousness, not even to herself; she could never allow herself to.

So when he had taken her aside, once she was recovered, and explained to her what had happened -- what he'd done -- she'd taken it as a perfect Duchess. Calm, respectful and in control, not to mention grateful that this time he'd chosen to tell her rather than run away. She'd known it was dangerous for a Jedi to have attachments, but she hadn't realised it also presented a risk that they would Fall to the Dark Side. His explanation was perfectly logical; he couldn't allow himself to continue down that path with her, for either of their sakes, and so it had to stop.

She didn't let on that she was breaking inside, because the part that was relieved was a very small part indeed. The rest of her only wished to hold him, and be held by him, until all of her problems faded away and it was just the two of them, together.

But she was the Duchess of Mandalore, and doing that would betray her people, as it would betray her clan's need for heirs. So she did not dwell on what could have been; she focused on why it was good for both of them, and she wished him well in his journey to being a Jedi Knight.

A soft beeping broke the silence: a proximity alarm, indicating that they were close to their destination. 

Qui-Gon opened his eyes and rose fluidly to his feet.

"We're approaching the fuel station," he said, making his way to the cockpit. "When we arrive, I want the two of you to see if you can find some more emergency heat lamps; I don't want another situation like Hoth. I'll oversee the refuelling without you."

"Yes, master." Obi-Wan followed suit, rising and taking the co-pilot's chair beside Qui-Gon as the ship exited hyperspace. The swirling blue vortex visible through the viewport became a blur which snapped into focus as they returned to sub-light speeds, and their destination loomed directly in front.

A large moon, unusual for its atmosphere, orbited a distant star alone, the only body of notable size in this system. Tethered to it by a space elevator was a cylindrical space station, landing platforms extending from its central circumference like spokes of a wheel. The thick cord that stretched from one end of the station disappeared into the mass of swirling silver clouds that obscured the surface of the moon from view. The whole station, platforms and all, was enveloped by a faint blue sphere; a shield to hold in an atmosphere and maintain a gravity field, allowing visitors to walk from their ships to the central hub without a need for space suits. 

"Don't forget to check the fuel pressure gauge -- if it's not working we don't want to find out once something has gone wrong," Satine reminded him. "I don't want another situation like Devaron."

Qui-Gon's only response was his lips curling into a small smile. At least he didn't roll his eyes like Obi-Wan.

The two Jedi landed their ship on one of the refuelling station's many platforms, choosing one that had no-one parked on either side. Leaving Qui-Gon to handle the ship, Satine walked beside Obi-Wan under the black sky scattered with stars as they headed into the central part of the station. She would be more awed by the view if she hadn't spent the last year seeing it constantly as they traveled; as it was, she ignored it, struggling with what to say to break the silence between her and the man walking next to her.

She lamented that this was what their relationship had become; they used to be able to talk so easily, so freely. Now there were so many complications getting in the way. How close was too close? What was too familiar? Perhaps she should try calling home again; she hadn't heard any news from Mandalore in months.

Inside, they only spoke to co-ordinate their shopping effort, and in polite tones. There wasn't a huge variety of choice so it didn't take long to select the best tradeoff between price and quality. They were queueing to pay when Obi-Wan's commlink started beeping with an incoming call.

"Master?" he answered quietly.

Qui-Gon's voice was light-hearted. "The good news is that the fuel pressure gauge works perfectly."

Satine snatched the comm from Obi-Wan's hand, rolling her eyes even though the call wasn't a holo.

"And what's the bad news?"

After a small pause, he replied, "The bounty hunter we saw on Ultaar has just landed at the platform next to me. I believe it's just a coincidence; he doesn't seem to have recognised me yet, but no doubt if the two of you return or if he sees you in the hub he will put one and two together and come up with three ways to make money."

Satine felt as though the pit of her stomach had dropped to her feet. Ultaar was where they had just come from, and only narrowly escaped capture yet again.

"What should we do?"

"I want the two of you to go down to the surface." Qui-Gon's voice was calm and firm; he always was in situations like this. "I'll finish refuelling and meet you in a few hours. I'll have to jump to hyperspace to avoid suspicion, since there's nowhere in a sub-light distance from here worth going to. I'll calculate the smallest jump and come right back; when I do, I'll send rendezvous co-ordinates."

"We'll keep the comm on," Obi-Wan said, ending the call and nodding to her.

Trying to stay inconspicuous, they returned their unpurchased items to their shelves and headed for the elevator access. It appeared to be controlled by the Mining Guild, but it was a simple matter for Obi-Wan to wave his hand and have them both allowed through. The passenger lift was thankfully empty, so their descent to the Guild's base on the surface was undisturbed, and with a mixture of walking purposefully and then hiding around corners they managed to make their way out without being stopped by anyone.

Outside, the moon's breathable atmosphere was the only good quality it had. The air was cold and damp, and visibility was poor due to the thick upper atmosphere blocking what little light the distant sun provided and the constantly swirling mist at ground level. The ground itself was rock, slippery and hard where it wasn't covered by stagnant pools of what Satine hoped was water. The main feature of the moon was the labyrinth; the whole of the crust was riddled with naturally formed tunnels and caves. It made for an easy mine, hence the Guild's presence there, where they were trying to probe the mantle below for anything useful, but it was treacherous terrain.

Obi-Wan had a datastick that allowed him to slice into one of the base's terminals -- it was one of the many pieces of useful tech he had picked up over the past year. With it, he obtained a map of the surface, complete with indicators of which tunnels were still frequently used and which were abandoned. They used it to plot a course through the labyrinth towards one of the flatter areas, where a ship could conceivably land, and together they set off.

***

An hour later, Satine was running, her hand gripping Obi-Wan's for mutual guidance and support as they raced through twisting tunnels in the rock, feet sliding on the slick ground, soaked up to the knees from splashing through pools that could be as deep as ankle-height. _Something_ was chasing them, something big and shrouded in mist, something that growled and snorted and shook the ground as it pounded after them. Something that made the miners stay inside their base, only going out wielding an electrostaff and part of a group of six or more. When he'd read that in the terminal readout, Obi-Wan had snorted and made a remark about how many miners and electrostaves a Jedi with a lightsaber was worth.

Satine would slap him now if they weren't running. And she weren't a sworn pacifist.

They broke out into a large cavern, larger than any they'd been through so far; from the smoothness of some of the walls, they must have somehow doubled back on themselves and were close to the mining base again. Before she could even take a breath, Obi-Wan was dragging her forward into one of the neat, artificial mine shafts.

"Come on, in here!" he shouted.

Gasping for breath, she followed, and her absolute trust in him was tinged with confusion as she saw no exit; the narrow shaft as a dead end.

A thud behind them told her his plan. The beast, whatever it was, was clearly too wide to fit. The ground underneath them trembled at the impact, but with their hands joined they were able to keep each other upright. They reached the back wall of the tunnel and Obi-Wan stood so that he was between Satine and the beast, pressing her against the wall.

"It can't follow us; we'll wait here until it gives up." He sounded sure of himself, but Satine still had adrenaline rushing through her veins, making her wish they were still running.

Thundering footsteps warned them of the second impact, and this one was louder than the first; a booming crash that made the tunnel shake and dust fall from the ceiling above them.

The beast gave an angry roar, and they could hear preparing for another strike. This time, the run-up was longer and the collision was accompanied by a series of cracks and rumbles from the rock around them. The sounds didn't stop; Satine could hear them spreading from the point of impact, and then there was a loud crunch followed by an almighty grinding of rock. The whole cave shook, dust and small stones falling from the ceiling, as the noise continued. She thought she heard the beast cry out again, but she couldn't hear much over the din; it sounded like the whole planet was collapsing in on itself, burying them alive...

She wrapped her arms around Obi-Wan's waist, burying her head in the folds of his robes as fear and panic rose to a crescendo within her. The ground was shaking and he was the only steady thing in her world, his muscles taut with strain, like he was holding the roof up over their heads and not just staying upright.

At last, the crashing and thundering of rock subsided. Surprisingly, nothing had struck her other than a few small stones.

In the ensuing silence, all she could hear was the settling of dust and two sets of laboured breathing. It was a few moments before she was able to relax her death-grip on Obi-Wan, but she didn't let go completely; after the cave-in, no light was filtering into their cave any more, and they were in total darkness.

"Satine?" His voice was hoarse, but soft after the din that had just assaulted their ears. "Are you alright?"

"I -- I'm fine, I think," she replied shakily.

"I think the cavern outside collapsed. The mining operation must have removed too much of the structural support for it to hold up to such force."

She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself. "Well, at least we escaped that beast."

"I suppose that's one way of looking at our situation."

He moved away from her and she released him from her arms, though she kept a hand on his back to keep track of him in the darkness. She felt his shoulders moving and heard him running his hands over the rock wall.

"Can you get us out?" she asked.

"Move the rock? No, there's too much," he answered. "It was hard enough stopping any of this tunnel from collapsing on us. And I'd be afraid of that happening anyway if I tried to move the stones at what used to be the entrance."

He turned back to face her, not that it made much difference, and her hand moved to rest on his shoulder. She felt him grip her upper arm loosely, as though he too needed reassurance that she was there.

"So we're trapped." So easy to say, yet the implications felt heavier than all the rock above them.

She felt him swallow. "Qui-Gon will come looking for us when we don't make the rendezvous." He tried to sound confident and relaxed, for her, but she could tell it was an act. "We can wait for him."

They shuffled until they could sit on the floor with their backs resting against one wall. Even with the solid weight of the stone behind her, in the complete darkness Satine felt lonely and exposed. She reached out towards Obi-Wan, and her outstretched hand met his halfway. Silently, they linked their fingers, gripping each other tightly for comfort.

Then, they waited.

Hours passed. Although her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Satine couldn't see anything in the complete absence of light. All she knew was the cold, hard press of the stone underneath her, the warm pressure of Obi-Wan's hand in hers and the sounds of their breathing.

"We should have made the rendezvous by now," Obi-Wan said softly. She wasn't sure how he knew how much time had passed; she assumed it was some Jedi trick.

"Perhaps Master Jinn is looking for us as we speak."

She felt him hesitate. "Satine, I don't know if he'll be able to find us. I've tried reaching out with the Force, and I can't feel anything through this rock. The Force is a connection between living things, but there's not enough life on this moon to sustain that connection."

"So what you're saying is the signal is too weak?" She used the attempt at humour to distract herself from the meaning of his words.

"Something like that."

"Obi, I'm scared," she whispered. She heard him draw a breath to respond, but what was there to say?

Instead, Obi-Wan shifted a little, and then pulled Satine against his chest, wrapping his arms around her. From the tight squeeze he gave her, she wasn't sure if it was for her comfort or his, but she was grateful.

"I'm here, Satine," he murmured, "I don't know if we're making it out of this, but I will be with you until the end."

"I suppose… If this truly is the end, then I am glad I am with you."

"As am I."

"It's ironic, really," she mused. "We could never have been together in either of our lives, and so it is in dire circumstances that we can finally have what we truly want."

"Satine..." he whispered, and then she felt his fingers lift her chin as he caught her lips in a fierce kiss.

It was desperation that drove them both. Desperation, and a need to find solace in the bleak situation they found themselves in.

The kiss deepened, and she slid her hand from his cheek to bury her fingers in his hair. His arms went to her waist, pulling her closer, and she obliged, twisting around onto her knees so that she was facing him, never breaking the kiss. 

It wasn't a position she could hold, however, so she swung one leg over his knees to sit on his lap. He responded by putting both of his hands on her waist, sliding them up her sides, pulling her close. She ground their hips together, hearing his breath catch in his throat. Everything felt so much _more_ in the darkness, every touch intensified, the heat of his skin burningly hot next to the cool air.

He broke away to kiss a line along her jaw, down her throat, and when he reached the point where her neck met her shoulders she could not stop the soft moan that escaped her. She grabbed his face by the chin to force his mouth back against hers, tangling her fingers in his hair. His hands stroked along her sides, up and down, and then he decided he wanted more; his hands went to her belt, divesting her of it, and she heard the thunk of it hitting the ground beside them. With the belt gone he could open her robes and slip his hands beneath her undershirt, running his fingers over the soft, warm skin. She gasped at his touch, revelling in it, and continued to kiss him hungrily. He slid a hand up to cup one of her breasts and caressed the nipple with his thumb, making her moan again, louder this time. She ground her hips against his in response and felt his hardness through their clothes.

She started working on his clothes, casting his belt aside to join hers and opening his tunic to pull it down over his shoulders. They had to break their kiss as she pulled his undershirt up and over his head, and he took the opportunity to do the same to her, removing her robes and shirt before pulling her close again, this time skin-to-skin. He made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat and then surprised her with a sudden movement; he flipped them over so that she was on her back, and she felt him using the Force for extra balance. Somehow he'd also managed to have their clothes cushion her from the stone floor, but she wasn't thinking about that, because his body was pressing down on top of her and his mouth was sending a searing heat straight to her core from where he kissed her.

She ran her hands over his exposed back, feeling the lines of solid muscle there, tracing her nails down his spine. She reached the smooth curve of his ass and squeezed; his hips moved in response, rubbing himself against her. Desire shot through her, and a want for more. She threaded her fingers through his hair and sucked on his lower lip, making him moan, before her hands travelled down, stroking his lean, firm body as they went, until she reached his waistband. His breath hitched in anticipation; she considered teasing him, but desire won. 

Her hand dipped below the layers of fabric he still wore and her fingers curled around his erection. He couldn't do more than gasp into her mouth as she gave him a slow, gentle stroke, and then another. He started to move his hips in time with her hand, and she decided she couldn't wait any more. 

She gave him one more hard kiss and then tugged at his remaining clothing. He understood what she was doing immediately and sat back so that he could strip, his breathing loud in the darkness. She listened to it while she removed her own remaining clothes; leggings, underwear, boots, socks. When she was fully naked she lay back down and immediately he was back on top of her, his mouth searching for hers, brushing over her cheek until they could resume their kiss. She nudged him over until he was settled between her legs again, and then she reached between their bodies to wrap her hand around his cock once more.

He buried his head in her neck, not kissing it, just breathing, hard. She turned her head to whisper in his ear.

"Obi-Wan... Please..."

He raised his face to be just in front of hers -- not that they could see each other in the darkness -- and let her guide him to her entrance. The head of his cock was slick with precum, but it was nothing compared to how wet she was. How ready she was for him.

He pushed into her, slowly, gently, and let out a stuttered moan as he did, resting his forehead against hers. He slid in easily, and it felt so good to finally have him like this. She could feel the strength of his restraint as he let her get used to the stretch of him inside of her, but he didn't have to wait long.

"Go on," she murmured, rolling her hips. "I _want_ you, Obi-Wan."

He pulled back and thrust into her again, deeper this time, and moaned again, before shifting his weight so that he could comfortably hold himself over her. She ran her hands up and down his back as he continued to thrust, feeling his taut muscles flexing under her fingers, and she moved her own hips in time with his. He leaned down to catch her mouth in a sloppy kiss, both of them panting and moaning as his thrusts got faster. He pulled back again, still breathing hard, as he fucked her, over and over until his breath started catching and his thrusts became erratic, and then he cried out as she felt him come inside her. He kept going as he rode it out, and then all the strength left him and he collapsed on top of her, a sweaty, shaking mess. He didn't move, and neither did she, as they both caught their breath, their bodies still connected.

Eventually, he pushed himself up just enough to kiss her again.

"I love you," he murmured tenderly.

She kissed the tip of his nose. "I love you too," she whispered back.

"Now..." He pulled out of her slowly, and she sighed as she felt him leaving her. "There's one more thing I want to do..."

He settled himself down, laying on his side next to her, and leaned in for a kiss. She felt one of his hands caress her breast before stroking down her ribcage and over her stomach. He lightly traced a line over her hip that made her breath hitch in her throat, continuing onto her inner thigh, and it felt like he was leaving searing lines of fire over her skin. She felt him track parallel lines on either side of her labia, and then he was touching her, rubbing her wet clit in slow, sensual circles, making her moan and push her hips into his touch. She felt him smile and grabbed his head by the hair, yanking him in for a kiss that was all tongue and no finesse.

He used her moans and gasps as guidance, and it wasn't long before he was speeding up, listening to her come undone under his touch. Her moans rose in pitch as she neared her own orgasm, and then cut out completely as she hit it, her entire body tensing and shaking as he worked her through it and out the other side. She reached for his hand to still him, now oversensitive to his touch, and felt the endorphins swirling through her body as her muscles turned to liquid and she lay still, catching her breath, basking in the aftermaths of pleasure.

***

Obi-Wan woke the next morning with Satine's head on his chest. The cave was cold so they had reluctantly dressed again before going to sleep, which came easily after all the events of the day. Sleepily opening his eyes, he could see a little of the cave around them; a small amount of light had managed to penetrate through the rocks and rubble. It wouldn't be enough; with no way out and no source of water, they would surely die of dehydration in a few days. 

Rather than dwell on such depressing thoughts, Obi-Wan closed his eyes again and focused on the gentle rise and fall of Satine's shoulders, listening to her breathing and slow, steady heartbeat. He could feel her, not just physically, but through the Force, as it flowed through her entire body. Their future might look bleak, but for now, he could find peace in her presence and in the Force.

He let that feeling fill him with each intake of breath, slipping into a meditative state, and on each exhale let his awareness expand into the Force. He could feel the rock of the cave they were in, and of the boulders blocking them, solid and heavy, too much weight bearing down for them to move. He could feel beyond it, too; the cold, barren landscape above them, dotted with the occasional spark of a spore or seed, a dusting of moss or lichen, tiny motes of life that managed to cling on to their existence.

He danced with them, floating from one speck to the next, his consciousness swirling through the thin atmosphere and marvelling at the determination for survival on this desolate rock, until he brushed against something much larger, and much more vibrant.

The shock of it broke his trance-like state, and he came back to the cave with a jolt.

"Master." He had spoken the word before he realised what he was doing. 

His sudden movement woke Satine, still lying peacefully on his chest. "Good morning to you too," she mumbled sleepily.

"No, I felt him; Qui-Gon. He's out there, looking for us." He could still feel an echo of his master's presence, suffused with determination and worry, driven to keep searching for his lost charges.

Realising what he was saying, Satine became more alert, raising herself up on an elbow to look at him properly. "What? How? Is he close?"

"He's flying just above the surface, searching for signs, but not close enough to sense us. Let me focus again -- maybe I can send him a message."

He tugged her back down to lie with him again, trying to re-create the tranquil moment from before. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing and on Satine's presence, and reached out through the Force once again. Now that he knew where to look, he found his master quickly.

He concentrated, Qui-Gon's presence as familiar to him as his own, and he felt the moment his master realised it was him. The worry was washed away by relief, and the ship changed course, coming straight for them.

Obi-Wan breathed a sigh of relief. "We're saved," he said to the woman in his arms, and they both laughed from the pure joy of realising they had done it; they had survived.


	9. Chapter 9

The ship exited hyperspace, and a white planet hung directly in the center of the viewport.

"We're beginning our approach to Mandalore." Qui-Gon's voice was soft and calm, as it always was. Satine rose from her seat to get a better view.

Home. There it was, silent and imposing before her, the scarred surface of Concordia just visible beyond it. Though she had been born on Kalevala, this was where she belonged. The Mandalore she remembered was greener, more vibrant, but she had been away for a long time and seen a plethora of vibrant worlds across the galaxy; perhaps it was just the rose-tinted visor of fond memories. 

As promised, there were no hostiles waiting for them -- no ships at all, in fact. As she gazed at the pale desert visible through the occasional wisps of cloud in the upper atmosphere, she felt a small pang of sadness. So much life, so much potential, all wasted because of war. 

But she was back now, and she would do what she could to continue the healing process. 

The call had come shortly after they'd left the moon that she and Obi-Wan had almost died on. All three of them had been practically giddy with relief after the close call and miraculous rescue, and they were all so distracted by it that a few moments had passed before any of them had realised her comm was beeping. 

That in itself was cause to double-take; no-one had commed her in months. She'd answered it, expecting an aide like last time, but found half of her Ruling Council on the other end. 

Their news: the war was over.

Vizsla had been captured and was in custody awaiting trial. The clan leaders who supported him had all surrendered, and the bounty on her head had been called off. Order was being restored, the destruction was being rebuilt, and the people were more firmly in favour of peace than ever.

She was still reeling from the shock of it all when they'd moved on to more practical matters.

The Council had been split over whether she should return immediately or stay away a little longer; she had quickly broken that tie, insisting that her place was with her people. There had been a good hour of discussions of their next steps, during which the Jedi had been called onto a separate debriefing with her new personal security team, before someone had suggested they all get some sleep ahead of her arrival in the morning. She had diligently kept to Mandalorian time, syncing the day and night cycles on whatever ship she and the Jedi were on with those on her home planet, so that was one thing they didn't need to worry about. 

Even though she was finally returning, the one thing she'd dreamed of for a year, she felt hesitant. Yes, there was a lot to do, but it would be a huge change of pace from what she had become used to; what if she was no longer fit to rule? How much had changed during the course of the war?

And what about Obi-Wan?

She was pulled from her thoughts by Qui-Gon, who was still speaking, his words bringing her back to the cockpit.

"We're to take you to Sundari where your new government and security force are waiting."

"Sundari?" Satine was confused. "Why not the capital?"

The Jedi master paused, before turning to look at her with sadness in his eyes. "Your security team informed us that Keldabe was destroyed in the fighting while we were gone. There's nothing left. Sundari has been declared the new capital of Mandalore."

Speechless with horror, Satine sat back down, drawing a shuddering breath. _Destroyed_. 

"I'm so sorry," Obi-Wan murmured, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. She barely noticed it. This was why her people needed peace; without it, the wars would only continue until there was nothing left of them. 

It was why they needed _her_. She would be fit to rule. She would leave the past year behind her, and she would step up to take her place as her people's salvation. She took strength from that thought, holding onto it to stop her from sinking into despair.

It took a few moments for the other implication of his words to sink in.

"Won't the two of you be accompanying me?"

"I'm afraid not." It was hard to tell, but she thought she detected a hint of disappointment in the older man's voice. "Your government informed the Jedi Council that our services were no longer required, and we have been summoned back to Coruscant as soon as we have delivered you safely."

She swallowed. "I understand."

"If you would excuse me, I should contact them. The Council don't like to be kept waiting." She nodded, and he gave her a small bow before leaving the cockpit for the private transmission room.

It was Obi-Wan who broke the ensuing silence. "So I suppose this is goodbye."

"There's no chance you could stay?"

"As a Jedi, I must go where the Council wishes."

 _So don't be a Jedi_ , she wanted to say. _Leave them, stay with me_. She looked up at him and met his eyes, but it wasn't fear of rejection that stopped her from speaking the words.

 _He would do it_. 

In that moment, though neither of them said a word, an understanding passed between them. She knew then that if she asked, he _would_ stay. He would give up everything he had been working towards for her, to remain at her side, and all she had to do was ask him to do it. But how could she? The Jedi Order was everything for Obi-Wan; how could she ask him to turn his back on it all?

She couldn't.

"I understand," was all she said instead. "As the Duchess of Mandalore, I too must do what is needed of me."

_Buirkan ori'shya cerar; kyr'am kih'shya senaar._

The words her father had said to her on his deathbed came back to her. She hadn't understood them at the time, but now, their meaning was all too clear. _Duty lies heavier than a mountain; death flies light as a bird_.

Her duty was to her people, and they needed a strong ruler committed to peace. His was to the rest of the galaxy, which needed a brave Jedi to protect it from harm. They would each bear the weight of their responsibilities; steadfast, selfless, separate.

***

For the last time, Qui-Gon flew with Obi-Wan as a co-pilot to touch down on the surface of a planet they hadn't flown to before. The Sundari spaceport would be unremarkable to her now if it weren't for the all-too-familiar architecture. The boarding ramp lowered, and the three of them walked out onto the private landing platform. It was a small welcoming party greeting them; the formal ceremony would come later, along with a public parade, after she had been given a chance to wash and dress like a proper Duchess. 

She turned to bid the Jedi farewell. They both bowed respectfully, but once they had straightened she stepped forward to wrap Qui-Gon in a tight embrace. 

"I cannot thank you enough for your service this past year, Master Jedi. Know that you will always be welcome on Mandalore, as will any Jedi."

"Your highness is too kind."

She turned to Obi-Wan, and didn't hesitate to give him an even tighter hug, trying to convey all the feelings she couldn't put into words. As she did so, he whispered something in her ear.

" _Kar'taylir darasuum_."

They were words she'd taught him herself, so many months ago now; _you will always be in my heart_.

She so desperately wanted to say it back, to tell him how she felt, but she knew if she did she wouldn't be able to stop herself from saying the other thing, starting down the path that neither of them should follow. So she held herself strong as she pulled back to look him in the eyes.

"May the Force be with you."

Then she turned, re-joining her government and resuming her place as the Duchess of Mandalore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading to the end!! It's pretty huge to me that I've managed to finish writing this, so knowing that someone else enjoyed it enough to read it all means a lot. I love and appreciate all feedback - kudos, comments, praise, criticism, English class-style essays, unintelligible noises - so I would love it if you could let me know what you thought!


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